The Phoenix and the Dragon: Forbidden Desire
by Alexandrite Moonlight
Summary: [UPDATED! CH. 6! NOW[SLASH] [WIP] The line between the Elementals and the mortal world is about you be shattered. As Darkness closes in, the Dragon and the Phoenix find themselves in the struggle for Power... A Forbidden Desire awaits them...
1. If Just For Now

Darkness filled the room; only a pale rectangular shadow falling across the floor gave any indication of the soft light of the moon in the cloudless sky outside. Shadows caressed the room and its objects, giving a soft and sleepy tone to the ordinary; but the objects in the room were anything but ordinary, at least if you were a muggle.   
  
The desk in the corner was a simple wooden structure but the objects on it were quite unusual, a stack of books lay in disarray against the wall with titles ranging from Matilda Hedgerow's Guide to Advanced Flora Vol. 3 to an open book with a aerial view of an oblong field with 14 small blurs whizzing from end to end with the words 'The match between the Kenmare Kestrels and the Wimbourne Wasps was one of the greatest in the history of Quidditch' written beneath it. An empty birdcage stood to the upper-right of a bottle of _Iris Irridesa's Multicolor Ink_, an unconsciously chewed quill pen, and a small stack of parchment paper. Across the room, on the back of the door was a poster of seven athletes dressed in bright orange who appeared to be asleep standing up, the bold name '_Chudley Cannons'_ flashing in large letters below them. These weren't the only treasures to be found in the room. If one were to pry further into the room and its furniture one would find a set of black robes with a lion and the word 'Gryffindor' emblazoned on it proudly in red and gold; a broom lay carefully tucked away in its own corner of a closet, newly polished; and a curious assortment of equally unusual candy, which the room's occupant would tell you were a life-sustaining necessity, hid carefully beneath a loose floor board.  
  
The room and its belongings, strange and intriguing as they are were nothing compared to their owner. The objects of the room lay scattered in the confidently careless way of other boys his age; however, Harry Potter was not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill 16 year old, he was a wizard, or at least a wizard in training. Harry was a 6th year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Seeker for the Gryffindor house quidditch team, a game played in the air upon broomsticks, the same one that was playing out in the book on the desk. For as long as he could remember he had lived at number four Privet Drive with his muggle, or non-magic, relatives: uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia, and his cousin Dudley Dursley. They had hid his wizard heritage from him till he had turned 11 and had received his letter from Hogwarts. Now that he had completed 5 years at Hogwarts and was to begin his 6th his relatives had given up on discouraging him and now ignored him as completely as was humanly possible. They still left most of the chores to Harry, at least those that required manual labor; however, beyond that they couldn't have cared less that his room was covered by _that OTHER filth**, **_as they called it; the M-word was not tolerated in their midst. Harry had learned soon the value and the pleasure of stirring clear of the Dursley's. In the end, the Dursley's seemed better off and Harry could spend time alone, studying or honing his reflexes. He preferred the second.   
  
It would have seemed sad to most people, that lack of interest and feeling that carved a crater between the Dursleys and Harry; however, Harry would simply have shrugged it off. The Dursleys weren't his family; his real family was in the wizarding world or at Hogwarts, and Harry was counting down the days till the school year started. Something was pulling on him, tugging constantly at his mind. Things would change this year, as they always would do, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this year would be significant.   
  
It was that thought that had him up and awake after midnight again, that and the burning sensation that coursed like a heartbeat through his scar. The pain was nothing like what he had experience at the beginning of the summer holiday, that had been excruciating, seeming to sear through his body. The experience had left him unconscious for a full 35 hours; this, this was simply a dull echo to what he had went through then. The pain would dull. It always did.  
  
Pushing a hand through his unruly hair he sighed, "Knew it..." Grinning slightly to himself as the pain faded as quickly as it had come. _'Perhaps I will speak with Madame Pomfrey about it when I return to Hogwarts.' _With that he drifted back to happier memories, the pain would be forgotten completely as well as his intended visit to the hospital wing's resident witch. His memory forced everything else from his mind and he followed the images...

Harry stood beside the window looking out into the black night as if he could see Hogwarts tucked in its beautiful surroundings, smell the exotic fragrance of the Forbidden Forest mingling with the musty stone of the castle, and feel the air rush through his hair as he soared around the quidditch pitch, having to squint as the light reflected off the lake. A wistful smile tugged softly at the corners of Harry's mouth, his emerald eyes mirroring the glow of the stars as they became dreamy.  
  
Familiar faces swirled behind his eyelids as he closed them. The ancient halls and staircases blurred by with wonderful detail, but it was the faces that had him smiling. Hermione, bent over a stack of books worrying her bottom lips between her teeth; Ron's grinning, freckled face as he watched Hermione beneath tendrils of red hair that was always untidy; and through the myriad of other faces Harry couldn't help noticing the repetition of a blonde haired youth. Slate gray eyes shaded silver burned into Harry's mind in all their icy aloofness.  
  
_How long had he been there? Why was he there at all?_  
  
"Draco", Harry whispered.  
  
Catching himself quickly, Harry cleared his throat to the empty room.  
  
_When had he started calling Malfoy by his given n_ame?   
  
Shrugging off the question he turned almost reluctantly from the comforting night and crossed the room to his bed. Removing his glasses he placed them upon the nightstand and drawing the sheets of his bed back slipped between them. Laying on his side his eyes grew heavy and the lids fluttered softly down over his cheeks as his subconscious took him home early, his mind only balking for a minute as a dream image of Draco wrapped its arms around him.  
  
As Harry slipped further, the dream, and Draco, became almost tangible and Harry smiled into his pillow, a soft blush sweeping his cheeks. The dream would be forgotten tomorrow, but for now, just for that moment he could dream. Could let himself fall into the image's embrace.  
  
Just for now he could return it.  
  
_Just for no_w...


	2. If Only Just A Dream

A soft glow of light flickered from the fireplace giving a feeling of false comfort to the formally cold room that waited in the silence of night. The room itself did little to help increase the effect of the firelight, having little of the warmth one would expect from a person's living space. Flames reflected off the stone walls, illuminating the embroidered tapestries decorating their surfaces, as the meticulously polished metal glinted coldly from the frames of pictures. The furniture was of the highest quality and each object and color blended together in a picture of absolute luxury. It was a room void of soft comfort, strict in its museum perfection.   
  
Opposite the stone fireplace stood a four-poster bed, its ancient mahogany seeming to glow as the flames accented its rich color. A down spread of deepest green interwoven with silver Celtic snakes creased in rivulets inward to the form that lay in its folds. The spread, in disarray, was evidence to the restless sleep of its owner, his form plastered to the soft material giving no comfort. Cold sweat soaked his body, glistening on his face as he struggled against an unseen assailant.  
  
It was the same. Always the same...  
  
Glowing red eyes, cruel and mocking in the darkness of his mind. leered at him from the dense folds of a black robe. A shudder raked down his spine as the memory of cold, bony fingers griping and tightening against the pulse at his wrist and fear crashes over him, taking him under. Then the words, always the words; spoken in a raspy hiss that echoed through his head, followed by piercing laughter, hollow and empty.  
  
**_"Morsmorde…"_**  
  
Eyes flew open as the words clouded his thoughts and the phantom pain shot through his arm, burning below the surface, seeming to tear at his very soul. Throwing back the sheets he sat up violently, his legs dragging up as he wrapped his arms protectively around them. Lowering his head, he rested it on his knees as he fought to calm his rapid breathing.

_'A dream…'_ he thought desperately, _'just a dream.'_  
  
Strands of pale hair wavered as he fought to even out his heartbeat.  
  
_'A dream… only a dream.'_  
  
Slowly his breathing became normal. His dreams had been haunting him for weeks, ever since he had come home from school to find his parents waiting with a surprise.   
  
_'A surprise!'_ his mouth snarled at the word. Surprise was a word to be used for joyful occasions; birthdays, Christmas, a new racing broom, not for what had happened to him. 'Surprise' was a term he would never associate with that day...  
  
Brushing his hair from his face he lay back into his pillow. Raising his left arm he glanced at the faintly red flesh just below the inside of his elbow. Even in the dark he could make out the lines and shape that had been burned into his flesh; a skull and snake. Letting his arm drop unceremoniously back onto the bed he remembered the proud looks on his parents faces as he received his surprise, remembered every detail of the day he had lost his adolescence to the Dark Mark.  
  
  
  
**************5th Year End of Term****************  
  
_Draco had alighted from the Hogwarts Express to be met by Peter. It wasn't too unusual, Peter had picked him up before then; however, the chauffer had directed him towards a wall rather than the usual barrier. His father had sent the coach instead of the car; it was enchanted, illegally, and thus quicker and more risky. It hadn't occurred to him to pay much mind to the change in transportation. He would be home sooner this way. The quicker the better, every mile between him and Potter was a relief and a blessing.  
  
Sometime during the school year, somewhere inside him, something had changed and Draco did not like the result.  
  
The abrupt halt of the coach disrupted Draco's thoughts, signaling his arrival home. Wrapping his cloak about him he stepped down from the carriage as Peter opened the door. As his feet met the gravel of the circular drive Draco felt the irritation fall from his shoulders, strengthened by the quiet confidence that came from having the foundation of generations beneath you. For the first time since he had left for Hogwarts Draco smiled; not sneered or smirked, but smiled, genuine and true. Looking around him, he let his gaze wander lovingly over his home. The gardens, trim and beautiful, his mother's work as much as the gardeners'. The dark forest that edged the grounds on three sides, forbidding and exotic. The house itself, tall, straight, proud and elaborate in its four stories and seemingly never ending history. Malfoy Manor was rumored to have been built from the ruins of Camelot. Draco liked to think that the rumor was true._

A flash of pale blue and silver caught the corner of his eye and he turned to look straight into the eyes of his mother. She was watching him with the tender and patient warmth that only a mother possessed. Whether his father cared for him or not had never really mattered, Draco knew she loved him enough for both. His smile had been on the verge of widening until something behind her pride caused his smile to falter and fade completely. Sadness. She had been on the verge of tears. He hadn't noticed, she had held herself so elegantly that he hadn't noticed the slight slip in her composure.  
  
"Mother…"  
  
The warmth and concern in her son's voice had almost broken her control. Almost.  
  
"Draco," she smiled and Draco could tell that it cost her some effort.  
  
"What is it?" he asked softly.  
  
A single tear slipped over her cheek, but she wouldn't dare wipe it away. Knowing her pride Draco had reached up, taking her face in his hands, accidentally brushing the tear away as he kissed her in greeting. The effort was not wasted on Narcissa and she smiled easier, "Welcome home."  
  
He had already been going over the situation; the change of transportation, Peter instead of his mother, his mother greeting him at the door, her attitude. Something was going on. Quirking an eyebrow he questioned her with his eyes, afraid of upsetting her further.  
  
Understanding, she slipped her arm through Draco's as they entered the manor. "You're father has a surprise for you." Her voice was stretched, "We will be having company this evening. You are expected in the Dinning Room in two hours." She paused, "It's formal." The last had been spoken almost harshly and Draco began to understand. Voldemort.  
  
Four hours later, Draco stood in the center of a circle of Death Eaters, his hand held possessively by Pansy Parkinson, she and her father had been invited to witness Draco's initiation. The dinner had been a formality to discuss their engagement and begin planning the wedding that would take place when Draco turned seventeen next June. Pansy had practically radiated pride and joy; she had a fiancée and the reputation of being the first female Death Eater. Even Narcissa hadn't been admitted into Voldemort's inner circle. Draco had simply stood there, cold and numb with everything that was happening.  
  
When Voldemort had entered the circle, walking toward them, Pansy had stood her ground and Draco had had no choice but to grudgingly admire her courage, especially when many of the elder Death Eaters had shrunk away. Voldemort had smiled in cruel pleasure at the couple that was to join him and, calling for silence, took Draco's left arm in his hand, pointing his wand to the flesh just below the elbow.  
  
Pain, white hot and searing, shot through him. Tearing. Burning. Rending. Closing his eyes he watched the color bloom under his eyelids. Focusing on it, red transformed to vivid purple, purple to blue, and blue to pitch black. He could feel the lines etching themselves on his arm, cutting their paths in a mixture of fire and steal. He was sure that his flesh was parting it its wake and that blood would soon flow in rivulets over his arm, but time passed and the only blood he could feel was dripping from his lips. Then the pain was fading, the black beneath his eyes fluctuated to a brilliant green, and he was aware of his teeth cutting into his bottom lip.  


Opening his eyes he met Pansy's. Hers were wide as she looked at him; fear and admiration reflected in her eyes. Looking down at his arm, he watched as it pulsed brilliant blue before fading into the familiar black form that he had seen on his father's arm. Voldemort's hand was still locked around his wrist tighter than he had thought the frail looking fingers appeared capable of and he looked up to find Voldemort watching him with unbelieving eyes. Uncertain, Draco turned to his father. Pale and shaken, Lucius' eyes had been locked on Draco's arm.   
  
Voldemort's grip loosened from Draco's wrist and Draco to the opportunity to wipe the blood from his face with the back of his arm, his other hand was still lock in Pansy's and her grip was as tight as Voldemort's had been.  
  
"So..." Voldemort rasping voice pierced the air and Draco looked up, "Draco. Dragon. Ironic that it would be a boy so young with a name to match." There had been envy and cunning in Voldemort's words.   
  
***********End************

  
  
Draco hadn't understood then what Voldemort's words had meant, nor why when Pansy's own arm had been marked hers hadn't pulsed blue as his had. He understood now. Understood better than either Voldemort or his father knew.  
  
Turning to the wall he closed his eyes, willing away the memories and the pain.   
  
Willing away everything...  
  
Finally sleep answered him and as he lost consciousness he dreamed of school, of darkened hallways, of quidditch, and finally of things that would be left unremembered in the daylight hours. His mind brought him fantasies of emerald eyes, stolen kisses, and warm embraces. Sometime in the night he whispered the name of his dream lover who kept even the darkest of memories at bay.  
  
"Harry Potter..."


	3. Finally I Am Home

The whole of Diagon Alley spread out beyond the window, a delightful jumble of various shops, each converging turning and jutting out at odd angles. It was one of the hearts of the wizarding world, hidden beneath the very skin of muggle London. Here you could find and purchase almost everything you might need or want from some of most prominent shops known to witches and wizards. Over at Madam Malkin's you could find robes for any occasion; Ollivander's has been supplying the magick community with the highest quality wands since 382 B.C.; and located there is a quidditch shop that has everything for the devoted player and obsessed fan. It was an oddly comforting sight, not even the foreboding white structure of Gringotts Wizard Bank could dampen the pleasant feeling it gave off.  
  
Harry loved it. Sitting there at the window of his room in 'The Leaky Cauldron' he marveled at the sight before him.   
  
  
Harry had arrived four days ago; ever since the attack on house #4 on Privet Drive. It had been a close call for Harry and he couldn't help but feel responsible for the injury Aunt Petunia had received from it. She was currently being held at a muggle hospital, having refused all offers to treat her more quickly and efficiently through a wizard physician. She would live with the scar across her abdomen for the rest of her life and Harry couldn't help but feel guilty for the pain she had endured. Luckily there had been warning enough that no one else had suffered.  
  
Harry's brow furrowed as he continued to scratch the ears of a large black dog beside him.   
  
_'Who had sent the warning? And why?',_ those questions continued to run laps around his mind. It had been sent by owl; however, the owl could not be used to reply to the sender or identify him or her. Breaking the seal on the letter had tripped a memory spell; the owl's memory had been erased of all things related to the letter and the one who sent it. It had seemed confused and disoriented after that; Harry had to feel sorry for the creature. Even Dumbledore had been unable to sense the spell and was unable to retrieve any of the owl's memory. 

Harry had been allowed to read it after his rescue, in hopes that he knew who might have sent it. His eyes strayed from the scene below over to the pocket of his robes, idly tossed over his trunk, and to the letter within. He could remember it by heart now...  
  
  
**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Order of the Phoenix  
Headmaster Dumbledore and Company,  
  
Do not try tracing the origin of this letter, fore just as it concerns the life of one of you, so too does the secrecy of this transaction concern my life. If my identity were made known my life would be in danger and my assistance would not be available to you. I trust you will respect my wishes.  
  
_Touch of the rose..._  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**  
  
The last phrase had been cryptic and Harry had sat there puzzling over the phrase, but Dumbledore had simply smiled and placed his finger against the red rose in the corner of the letter. It had appeared, to Harry, to only be a decoration on the parchment, but as the Headmaster's finger covered the flower ink had seemed to blossom from the bottom of the page, forming a single, perfect rose before seeming to burst apart, leaving words in its black wake...  
  
**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
I thought you would understand that. It will only respond you your hand, Headmaster. Anyway… onto the matter of my correspondence:  
  
-A week before the Hogwarts' school term begins the _Serpent_ will seek the _Phoenix's_ blood, attacking it in its _nest_. _Sundown_ comes early and it is not time for the Phoenix's light to dim. The darkness grows in strength.-   
  
I wish that I could give you more; however, I believe the message was conveyed adequately. Please, hurry sir! I fear this may have arrived too late.  
  
----  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**  
  
Harry had been unable to understand the letter and Dumbledore had kindly explained its message. The answer had been locked in the italicized words: '_Serpent'_ had been a reference to Voldemort, the '_Phoenix'_ represented Harry, '_nest'_ was Harry's home at #4, and '_Sundown'_ had given the time of the attack. It was quite ingenious Harry had to admit. There had been no evidence of the sender, no name and the owl was certainly of no use.  
  
The letter had arrive on the morning of the attack. It had only been thanks to Dumbledore's quick thinking that Harry was here at all, looking out on another day, waiting for his friends to join him, with his godfather sitting beside him.  
  
Closing his eyes he let the memories play out...  
  
*************Privet Drive, 4 days ago*************  
  
_The first thing that he remembered was Aunt Petunia's piercing scream coming from downstairs. Harry hadn't paid much mind to it at first, she screamed at the slightest thing. Suddenly an explosion shook the walls and Harry leapt up from his desk to the thud of something hitting the floor, the stench of burning wood filtering up to his room. Harry had reached for his wand and was walking toward his door when he had heard hurried footstep ascending the stairs. Bracing himself he pointed his wand at the door, every spell he had learned in his five years at Hogwarts crowding his mind.   
  
Suddenly the door burst open and Arthur Weasley ran into the room, wand pointed toward Harry.  
  
Numb with shock, Harry's arm sagged and he stuttered, "M-Mr. Weasley?"  
  
Suddenly something moved near Harry, he could feel it as it shifted the sleeve of Harry's shirt. As he turned in its direction he heard Mr. Weasley shout, "Petrificus Totalus."  
  
Shielding himself with his arms, Harry could only see the flash of light that filled the room before a dull thud echoed through the room. Looking up, he saw Mr. Weasley standing beside him, watching something on the floor. Turning Harry noticed a pair of legs protruding from thin air, a dull and faint iridescence shimmering above them.  
  
"Invisibility cloak." Mr. Weasley said matter-of-factly. Harry could only nod numbly as Mr. Weasley's face broke out into a relieved and strained smile. "So, it's good to see you again Harry. How have you been this summer?"  
  
"I-I've been better." Harry had managed to choke out looking back down at the floor, letting out a strangled cry.  
  
The legs were gone and so was the body as Mr. Weasley tested the area with his foot. Nothing.  
  
"Shit! Bloody Hell!"  
  
Harry stared up in shock at Mr. Weasley trying to determine if he was more shocked at what had just happened or at Mr.Weasley's choice phrase. Deciding the former was of more significance Harry found his tongue and slowly forcing it into action asked, "Do you mind telling me what just happened, Mr. Weasley?"_

_Mr. Weasley had smiled warmly, hoping to reassure and comfort; however, it only succeeded in arousing Harry's fear. The smile was all he managed to extract, except the assurance that Professor Dumbledore would explain everything in time._

He had. The moment Harry, Remus, and Mr. Weasley had entered the Headmaster's office, Harry had burst out with a seemingly unending list of questions. Dumbledore had simply sat behind his desk, his eyes sparkling with warmth above his patient smile as he let Harry empty himself of curiosity. Templing his fingers before his face he closed his eyes as Harry finished; when they opened Harry could see the sadness of an old man who had seen too many dark years in his life.

It was quite change, but it faded quickly and Dumbledore leaned back into his large chair, beginning the explanation. Starting with the letter and ending with Harry's arrival in his office. During the middle, Arthur Weasley and Remus filled in the brief battle, explaining to Dumbledore, in the process, the disappearance of the cloaked assailant. 

"I assume that you had only sensed one person in the room with Harry?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes, sir" Remus offered.

"Well then, it would appear that he cared a charm or summoning stone with him for just such a chance." At Harry's uncertain look Dumbledore explained, "Such a charm or stone is created so that if the bearer is harmed, becomes unconscious, or is assailed with magick it will transport that person to a designated location." Smiling supportively he added, "I suppose you could associated it with a portkey."

After receiving Harry's nod of understanding, Dumbledore and the other two began to discuss the plans for Harry's lodging and they had all agreed that Diagon Alley would be appropriate.

**************************************************  
  
Harry looked down at his godfather's animagus form and smiled before looking back out over the crowds of people, continuing his search for the Weasleys and Hermione. Even with his godfather beside him he had felt lonely; not that he didn't enjoy spending time with him, but Ron and Hermione had been his anchor and sail two years before he even knew he had a godfather. He needed them now.  


Harry sighed as he leaned back into the chair he had moved to the window. Sirius' head moved into the palm of Harry's hand, comforting in the only way he could in canine form. Harry couldn't help but laugh and ruffle Sirius' ears. There were times that Harry almost forgot that the dog was his godfather, but then he looked into his eyes, no dog could have those eyes. They were filled with the sorrow and sadness of years that no dog would ever see, in a place that wizard could survive with his sanity, let alone ever escape. Sirius had done both and was haunted by those years still. Looking into Sirius' face Harry was glad that the pain that use to haunt them had almost vanished and that joy and hope were slowly eroding away the years leaving them, if not bright then at least not dim.  
  
Would the past ever let him and those he loved alone?  
  
Standing up Harry was about to walk to his chest to take out a few coins and head into town when a loud knock startled him into jumping. Sirius was already alert and ready, hair on end and teeth bared as he stared at the door. Recovering himself Harry patted Sirius, as much to sooth Sirius as to comfort himself, as he headed over to the door.  
  
"Yes?" He asked. "Who is it?"  
  
A low and throaty voice answered, "It is I, You-Know-Who…" The voice would almost have been believable if it hadn't cracked in laughter at the end.  
  
A loud crack issued from behind the door and a woman's voice could be heard, "George Weasley! That is not funny! How dare you! In times like this… And after what happened four days ago!" Harry could hardly keep his laughter controlled as the voices continued beyond the door.  
  
"I was just having a bit of fun, mum…" said a voice that Harry recognized as George.  
  
"It wasn't at all funny and totally inappropriate!" countered Mrs. Weasley and Harry could just see her plump and kind face contorted in righteous ire. If he had ever had a mother figure in his life he would have claimed Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"But in times as dire as this shouldn't we try to keep our spirits up and not let fear cloud our lives." Fred added in his most dignified voice, coming to his twin's aid.  
  
"Oh, come on Harry! Let us in before Mum actually kills them." Ron's voice spoke through the door, trying to overcome the statements and accusations of the twins and Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"How do I know you aren't actually Death Eaters who have disguised your voices as my friends." Harry answered, finding this rather amusing and having to fight to keep the laughter out of his voice.  
  
"Harry if you don't let us in I will tell the Weasleys about that time last year when I caught you in the Astronomy Tower with your arms around Se…" Hermione's threat was cut short by Harry's response.  
  
Fear overwhelmed him as his cheeks heated. "Alright! Alright!" Harry managed to strangle from his throat, casting Sirius a glance and frowning when he caught him lying on the floor his sides heaving with laughter and a curious spark in his eye, before he opened the door. "Sheesh 'Mione, can't keep a secr…. Ah!"  
  
Harry fell backwards as arms wrapping tightly around his neck, the force of the others body causing him to crash to the floor. It took Harry a moment to realize that it hadn't actually been a Death Eater. Only when he realized that it wasn't the arms that were suffocating him but a full mass of brown hair.  
  
"Her-Hermione," Harry managed to choke out.  
  
Blushing, Hermione raised herself onto her knees, "Oh.. Uh, sorry Harry."  
  
Harry tried to push air into his lungs as he sat up, "No problem, 'Mione." Smiling he glanced from her to the members of the Weasley family, pausing on Ron for a moment. Ron's face was almost as red and Hermione's, but the look he was giving was caught between humor and another hidden emotion. Raising an eyebrow Harry turned back to Hermione, her face flaming bright red when he caught her glancing at Ron. "It's good to see you all."  
  
Arthur Weasley shut the door behind his family. Raising his wand he mumbled an incantation before turning back to the group in the room, "There, we will be undisturbed and the windows have already been enchanted to allow the occupant to look out but no one outside to look in." Turning to Sirius he grinned, "I believe it is safe for you to take human form."  
  
Harry watched as the dog nodded before its shape began to shift. Fur was replaced with clothing and skin as his godfather took form before him. Stepping forward, Sirius took Arthur's hand shaking it in greeting, "Good to see you again, Arthur. Molly," he added nodding toward her.  
  
"Likewise Sirius." commented Arthur.  
  
Meanwhile Harry and Hermione were picking themselves up from the floor, much to the humor of the twins. Harry had a feeling that he and Hermione were not going to live this one down for a while. Once on his feet Harry felt strong arms wrap around his shoulders and he leaned into the embrace of his godfather. Having Sirius in human form was comforting and solid. Smiles lit the faces of everyone and Harry felt the dread and the weight of the past few days pass away.   
  
"Well!" everyone started and looked toward the twins and Fred continued. "Harry appears to be well and all in one piece and since I didn't come all this way just to look at his pretty face lets order up some food and get out into the alley for some browsing before dark."  
  
Laughter broke out among the group.  
  
"I will be right back with our food," Mrs. Weasley commented as she headed toward the door.   
  
"Wait a moment," Mr. Weasley hurried after her, "let me undo the spell for you." Pointing his wand toward the door he spoke, "Finite Incantatem."  
  
As they left the room the others made themselves comfortable as they waited for them to return. The dreariness that had filled the room earlier was soon overcome by laughter and warmth of his friends. Smiling at Hermione's expectation of school and Ron's tactics for the Gryffindor quidditch team this year, Harry let everything unpleasant fade away, leaving only one thought in his mind.  
  
_Finally… I am home_


	4. Of Facades, Masks, and Darkened Pasts

__

Draco walked the streets of Diagon Alley as if he owned them. If truth be known in a way he did. Lucius held many of the titles to the shops and was even in partnership with many of the larger ones. His father may have had a warped sense of principles and beliefs, but his business sense could never be brought into question. Well, at least when other things weren't weighing on his father's mind and _time._

Draco practically sneered as he remembered the conversation that had taken place over breakfast, when Draco had mentioned his intention to go to Diagon Alley to pick up his school supplies…

~Breakfast. Malfoy Manor.~

_"Diagon Alley?" his father asked, only half listening as he turned a page of the Daily Prophet._

"Yes, sir" Draco had answered, rising from the table.

"You have not been excused," his father stated without looking up at his son.

Draco sat back down looking over at his mother who had been sipping her tea during the conversation. Secretly she passed him a slightly exasperated glance before closing her eyes and returning her cup to its matching saucer. Draco had to struggle not to smile.

"Would you mind picking up a few things for me, Draco?" his mother asked, trying to bring back the conversation. 

"Of course not, Mother." Draco silently blessed his mother for her effort to help him.

Still Lucius turned his paper, paying little mind as the other two continued the subject.

"I will make you out a list before you leave," his mother had fought to keep her calm at her husband's blatant refusal to acknowledge them.

"Very well."

Again silence had returned to the table, the only sound being the dry crackle of parchment as Lucius turned yet another page. It dragged on like that for some fifteen minutes, the silence stretching taunt between the three of them.

Lucius always knew just what buttons to push and when to release them.

"While you are there running errands for your mother check up on our interests." Lucius spoke calmly, again never looking up from the paper. "I have not been free to evaluate their status with my other **duties **taking up so much of my time lately." he stressed the word duty as if it were a hardship, and continued, "Bring me back a copy of their financial statements."

Draco waited.

Lucius' lips curled into a pleased smirk, "You are excused from the table. Both of you."

~End~

Before he had finally managed to leave the manor Draco had had to endure one of Lucius' lectures/rants on the 'degradation' of having to allow 'muggle-borns' to enter his businesses. Then had come the speech about his disappointment in Draco: 

__

*'Why have you not taken care of your school duties earlier?' 

*'This is not the behavior I would have hoped for from my son and heir to the Malfoy name.'

*'Think ahead a little, boy. You're a Malfoy. Take care of your responsibilities beforehand."

Draco rolled his eyes as he remembered the comment. His father was really one to talk on that subject, especially after Draco had just spent the last three hours of his day handling his _father's responsibilities_. Sighing he continued through the crowds. It seemed to him that here lately the only things that his father had to say to him were condescending. Not that he hadn't done so before now, it was just that there was something spiteful and harsh in his voice that had been missing before. Shoving his fists into the pockets of his black slacks he let a cruel smile curve his mouth. He knew the cause for the change, he just wasn't ready to accept it.

_'It was right there in front of you since the **training** had begun,' _Draco spat to himself.

Lucius was envious and, if completely honest, afraid of the boy he had raised. After all, it had been during the second day of his new training, the day he had discovered what was inside him, that he had noticed something cold flicker in his father's eyes. Draco could remember the exact moment that things between him and his father had changed. 

~The Sangoire Room. Malfoy Manor~

_"Concentrate Draco…" a rasping voice cooed behind him._

He had stood there within the center of the room, his arm outstretched, fingers spread out toward the opposite wall as if reaching out to an object just in front of him. The room he was in seemed to be perfect for the purpose of his sessions, it was decorated with black, wooden furniture, accented by only one other color, sangoire, the deep and rich color of blood, so dark that it appeared black at some distances. Draco was in a perfect distance to notice both the red and black transition in places. The color had unnerved him, reminding him of dried blood; however, it was the best-secludedroom in the manor. Nothing less would have done for the **'Master'**.

"You're not concentrating!" the voice spoke again, its harsher tone bringing Draco back from the unnerving study of the color.

"I am sorry, my Lord," he had said then as he focused back to the task at hand.

"Think of the Darkness, Draco." the voice said reverently, as if speaking of a lover. "Think of the Power it will bring you. Focus on the anger and hate you feel. Yes!" The voice had reached a high pitch of excitement as it continued, "Imagine the death and destruction of those who stand in our way. Those who side against us! Those who degrade the name of Wizard!" It continued to rise in pitch, filling the room, producing a rasping hiss as it spoke on, but now it wasn't speaking to Draco, it was speaking to the Darkness and itself.

Draco shuddered as the voice rubbed over his flesh like sandpaper. It was as though he were listening to thoughts rather than words. The thoughts of Voldemort crashed over him, drowning him in their foul desire, making him sick. Doubling over, he had fought to control himself, struggling against the nausea threatening to overtake him. Focusing, he tuned back into the convictions the Dark Lord continued to spout. He would have to remember it. His father would make sure that Draco had paid close attention to Voldemort's words. In the back of the room he knew his father was hanging on every word that left the Dark One's lips. He had seen it before; his father watching Voldemort as if he were a god, as if everything he spoke were truth and Lucius would grasped at them like a beggar scrambles for gold coins at the feet of princes. It was pathetic.

Then Draco had lost his train of thought as everything around him seemed to stop and the next sentences crashed into him.

"…the Potter boy will fall! His death shattering the hearts and hopes of those disgusting muggle-lovers! Dumbledore will fall aswell!" hoarse laughter followed the words, sounding like a saw on wood. "The last resistance of the Light will diminish as they both die at my own hand. Finally, I will finish what should have been done that night I gave him that scar! My victory will be complete. At last I will reign in the Power as I *should* have from the beginning. The Power that was suppose to be mine! Mine!"

He had stood there, listening to the voice; his body shaking violently with the hatred and anger Voldemort had spoken of, only his was directed at a different source. Hatred of Voldemort flared within him, disgust at his father, despair at how life had turned out; they waged war within him, burning him from the inside out. A fire of ice that had been tempered and controlled, flickered and blazed to life. A spirit long dormant arose in him and images of Harry filled his mind; his smile, his eyes, his shaggy hair that always needed a trim, and last came an image of those features plastered in blood, face frozen and pale, a grinning Voldemort standing over his body. 

**'No!' **his mind reeled with the overwhelming emotions. 'No no no no nononononononon'

Voldemorts words seemed to fade, sounding as if from a distance. It had been then, in that moment he had felt the power surge through him like a cold fire. Starting somewhere behind his navel, it loomed and grew, spreading through his veins, filling him even as it consumed him. The air became thick, pressing in around him. Suddenly every sound in the room was painfully clear.

Lucius had been somewhere behind him in the shadows of the dark, blood colored room, as Draco had known, and though Draco had not seen his face he had felt the change as though he *were* Lucius. Fear and envy directed at the son he had only tolerated. Voldemort had ceased ranting; his breath uneasy and Draco knew that he was nervous. His senses had been heightened and it seemed that he could feel the air stir and hear the of papery skin crinkling as the Dark Lord grinned at what had happened.

"Well done," the voice managed to choke out as if Draco had just correctly answered a question.

During that sudden wave of power something had awoken in Draco and he had found himself calm, as if this was how he had always been. Straightening he turned toward Voldemort and opened his eyes. 

A sharp intake of breath echoed around the room. He hadn't been certain then if it had been himself, his father, or Voldemort that had made the sound. If they had seen what he had it could have been any of them. Behind Voldemort stood an iron worked mirror in which Draco had found himself staring at his reflection. 

It was him. There could have been no doubt about that, but the person staring back at him seemed older, stronger, confident, and yet it was himself. Around him there seemed to shimmer a light, cold and faintly blue, but it wasn't this that had made the difference; it had been his eyes. Cold, blue steel gazed back at him, into him; they had caused the change. 

It had startled him at first and he had had to stop himself from shuddering, but then, as with the power, he felt himself calm, feeling as if they had been meant to be that way. It was strange and yet it couldn't have been more natural. He felt full. Had he been so empty before?

Voldemort was watching him with mixed emotions. On the surface there was the bright look of someone who has just received a new toy and in the other, deeper in was the maniacal glint of a man who could see the doom of his enemies as he appraised a new weapon. Looking over toward his father he could feel the fear and envy, mostly envy, radiating from him just as he could see it in his eyes. 

"The Dragon has risen," Voldemort stated, more proud at himself than Draco.

He had turned to his father, questions filling his eyes, but his father's face had masked over. 

"Now, Draco, suppress the Power. Control it."

The Power fell away easily and Draco was left as himself, his body lamenting its loss. The Power had gone, but he knew it was there.

And his father did as well.

~End~

It had taken the best part of that summer holiday to gain control of the Power inside him, but he had finally formed it to him. 

Smiling he corrected himself, _'formed myself to it is more like it.'_

Lucius had been there every step of the way. Not to encourage. Never that. But to make himself known, using every opening he could to break Draco's will bend or break, which ever happened first. 

Draco shuddered. That had been when the _sessions_, as his father liked to refer to them, had begun. 

Lucius may have had the right idea, but he had overestimated his own power and, worse of all, underestimated his son. Voldemort and Lucius would rue the day they had thought to use him for their own desire! They had no idea of the force they had unleashed, or the will that came with the Power. In the end the coming school term would find Draco better than he had been at its conclusion. 

In the end, their pride and folly would be their downfall. Draco would not be used!

Unconsciously he rubbed his arm, the Mark hummed like a dark song under his skin. It was as if it knew what he was thinking. Knew that he had changed. 

Everything had changed. He had already taken the step in the new direction. He just hoped that it wouldn't prove unwise.

_'Following the path that had been chosen for me isn't exactly wise either!' _he contended to himself. _'Just a cowardly way out,' _sighing he continued on, _'I just have to have faith in what I am doing. Everything has to change. I have, and that use to seem near to impossible. If I can change…'_ he left that thought hanging in the air. 

Frowning slightly he clenched his fists tighter in the pockets of his pants, '_Even I haven't changed enough to hope **that** much.' _Stopping he closed his eyes, '_This is stupid! Even if I could hope it would be baseless, a losing battle. Hopeless…' _

"Harry…"

It had been barely a whisper; he hadn't even thought he had said it out loud. Until…

"Yes?"

____________________________________

"So, what are you two doing here?" Harry asked the twins. 

The five of them had been roaming Diagon Alley for the last hour gathering Ron and Hermione's school supplies. Harry had been slightly relieved that they had been allowed to go out, just the five of them. Sirius had taken some time to convince; however, after talking with Mr. Weasley quietly, Harry had saw his shoulders slump in defeat and they had been given permission. Harry had the suspicion that it had only been for two reasons: one, the Weasleys and Sirius had some things to discuss after the attack on Privet Drive, and second, Harry was sure that Dumbledore had called in a few favors and was having him watched closely.

Fred and George both seemed to shrug simultaneously but it was George that answered, "Nothing better to do I suppose. Besides, what better way to brighten The-Boy-Who-Lived's life than having us around?"

Harry grinned as they waited outside of _Flourish and Blotts_ for Ron and Hermione, glad that he had already purchased his list of items earlier.

"Yeah," piped in Fred. "And also, we had to get some supplies for Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," he lowered his voice slightly, "Mum isn't suppose to know though. We think that once we actually get started, you know, getting orders and making a profit and all that, she'll come around."

Harry slightly doubted that Molly Weasley would ever approve, she would be proud no matter what, but she would never truly approve. Just as he doubted that Fred and George would ever give up on it. They would make it one day, Harry was certain of that, they're ideas were too ingenious not too. Smiling he remembered Dudley's encounter with the Twins' Ton-tongue Toffee, turning as the door to _Flourish and Blotts _opened.

"Well, where to next, 'Mione," he asked as Hermione and Ron joined them, a new bag in their possession.

"We should be done," she commented, glancing down at her packages and the half crumpled lift that she carried. "I think that's got everything, Ron?"

"Hmm?" Ron looked over toward her.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she tried to place her hands on her hips but the packages prevented her. "Oh, honestly! Can you think of anything that we have still need to get?"

"Yeah…" he grinned.

"What?!" she exclaimed as she went back over her list and then through her packages. "What have we missed? I can't believe I mi-…"

"Ice-cream."

Hermione about dropped her things as she looked up at Ron, relief, humor, and irritation flaring in her eyes. Harry, Fred and George fell into a fit of laughter as Ron just stood there smiling innocently at her.

"I meant school-wise," she stated primly, but the smile couldn't be held back for long and she added, "but I wouldn't mind some ice-cream. 

"Any objections?" posed Harry. No one said a word. "Motion passed."

"Good! And seeing as you passed the motion, Harry, it's your treat."

They all smiled and Harry couldn't gather up the energy to scowl at Fred.

"Too much talk, not enough action," Ron added as he began to walk in the direction of _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor_. "Come on."

They didn't have to be told twice.

-

They sat out in front of _Florean's_, the trio listening to the details behind the twins' 'Farewell-End-of-Year-Going-Away-Prank'. 

"What did you call them again?" Harry asked.

"Chameleon Color Tablets, "George answer proudly. "They change a person's skin three different colors, in last years case it was yellow, blue, and red, and it lasts a little over three hours."

"Yellow, blue, and red." Hermione muttered, her eyes twinkling as she came to a realization. "Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor! I don't know why I didn't see it before! Especially since it was the Slytherins that you did it to."

The twins beamed at her, "Ingenious wasn't it?"

"Yes, but how did you manage to contaminate the entire Slytherin table and without getting caught?" she asked, curious.

"Oh, we did get caught." George admitted. "You would have thought that Snape had been exposed and was going through the red phase, he was so upset," he smiled remembering the Potion Professor's face.

"Dumbledore managed to calm him down. I would rather have stared down Snape than face Mum when we got home. She was so upset…" Fred shuddered before continuing, "Anyhow. You know how all our meals are prepared below in the kitchen and then appear above on our tables?"

The other three nodded listening.

"Well, we went down into the kitchen on the pretense that we wanted some supplies for our house. You'll remember the little party we had that night." The trio smiled as they remembered Fred and George's going away party. "And well," George continued, "the house elves were so pleased to be of service that they didn't notice when we placed the tablets in the drinks on Slytherin's table. They dissolve in liquid, you know, and since they aren't exactly harmful they didn't trip the spells placed around the kitchens."

The five of them grinned at each other. Only Fred and George could have pulled something like that off and then gotten away with it.

The Slytherin's had been so upset. Harry smiled remembering the indignant look on Malfoy's face as he bolted into a standing position looking straight at the Gryffindor table, straight at Harry. Malfoy had been a bright shade of yellow at the time and it had been hard for Harry to hold his gaze without laughing. Eventually it had failed and he had had to break the contact as he doubled over in laughter.

Harry took another spoonful of his sundae, letting the spoon stay there as he remembered a yellow Draco Malfoy. It had been one of the best moments as he watched Malfoy straighten himself before sitting back down as if nothing had happened, his pride back in place. Harry always marveled at the way Malfoy could pull himself back together, how even the most common movement he made was graceful. He had made yellow look good, as if everyone were suppose to be that color. Harry had felt awkward in his tan flesh tone…

"Harry…"

"Yes?" he answered, automatically turning his head in the direction of the voice.

Questioning Green met uncertain Grey and everyone went silent…

______________________________

Draco stood there, staring into emerald pools of light as if seeking his salvation in them. He couldn't tell if he was breathing and, personally, he couldn't care less. All that mattered in this moment, in the entire world, was the person staring back at him. Unruly dark hair strayed in front of his eyes giving him the appearance of careless sensuality. How it possible to look that attractive when he always appeared to have just woken up, thrown on any clothes he could find and simply run a hand through his hair, Draco would never know, but attractive was the only word that came would come to mind at the moment.

_'Damn it, Potter! I didn't need this now!' _he cursed to himself_, 'Just my luck to run into Wonder Boy the one day I decide to visit Diagon Alley!'_

Recovering, he hoped that he hadn't been staring for too long and fixed a slight sneer on his lips as he broke the contact with Potter's eyes. Deliberate and slow, he let his gaze wander over the entire table passing by Granger and the younger Weasel before fixing on the Weasley twins. Memories of the Farwell Feast flashed through his mind and he could tell by the contented smirks on their faces that that was exactly what they were remembering as well.

_'Could this day get any better?'_

______________________

_'Malfoy.' _Harry thought as he snapped back to reality. His gaze had lasted longer than Malfoy's, continuing to look at him, even after he had looked away. His mind was fighting for reason like air after being consumed by the intense gray eyes for what seemed like eternity. Drowning in them so completely it had been a shock when he lost their contact, leaving him dazed and puzzled. He had seen something flash across Malfoy's face like a shadow; dark, fleeting, and intense before disappearing beneath the famous Malfoy Sneer. Harry's brows knitted together as he thought over the other boy, only half listening to what was being said.

_________________________

"Malfoy." Fred stated coolly, echoing Harry's thought as he tried to hide the grin.

"Weasley," disdain slid easily from Malfoy's lips as he spoke.

"Feeling alright, Malfoy," George answered. "A little _blue _perhaps that school is starting soon and Evil Minion Summer Camp is coming to a close?"

Draco simply shrugged. It was the best he could do to keep from smiling at the memory. He had been such a child less than a summer ago. How things had changed in so short a time. _'How appropriate for what I have become… what I *am*' _he corrected. A slight gesture and Weasley would become any color that Draco could imagine. The thought was rather amusing and Draco was having trouble fixing his lips into a sneer when the image of hot pink George Weasley kept making the corners of his mouth twitch. "I am touched at your concern, Weasley," smirking, he cocked an eyebrow, "Care to find out what I learned over the summer? I'll gladly give you a demonstration."

Fred and George returned his gaze evenly, undaunted by his remark; however, the expressions on Hermione and Ron's faces completely made up for the other two's lack of concern. Hermione stared at him incredulously, her eyes wide and lips parted in a silently expression of shock. She never failed to remind him of McGonagall, but it was Ron's face that brightened his day considerably. He sat there looking at Draco, three emotions waging war over his face; fear had drained the color completely from his face, horror had his lips moving in silent accusations, and hatred burned over Draco from the redhead's gaze. 

_'Never disappointing are you Weasel?'_ he almost smiled at the thought. Turning, his gaze focused on the last occupant of the table.

Harry eyes locked with his, studying him. Draco would almost swear that they were searching his, asking for a denial, an explanation, an argument, anything. He fought to keep his mask in place, trying to maintain his cool demeanor under the intensity of the emerald gaze. Finally something flickered beneath the surface and bright emerald melted into dim jade as sadness and disappointment crashed between the two of them. Draco could almost feel the emotions wash over him before Harry averted his gaze, finding in the ground a more interesting study. Draco watched as Harry's shoulders stiffened and he sat up straight, turning an expressionless face to Draco.

Struggling to suppress the anger and hurt that threatened to lash out at the five of them, Draco focused his gaze on a table behind them. _'Fuck ya'll too!' _he screamed in his head, _'I'm a Slytherin, not a fucking Voldemort/Death-Eater-incarnate! I have a mind and will of my own! I belong to myself, not some death eaten, world domination obsessed maniac!' _

Draco was no longer sure his anger was faced solely at the Gryffindors in front of him and he was aware that the table he was looking at was slowly starting to bend in on itself. Pulling himself and the table back together without drawing attention, Draco was beginning to recover his calm as a familiar voice interrupted his focus.

"Get lost, Malfoy." 

It was the same voice he had heard hundreds of times before yelling insults a hundred times worse but this time it made Draco flinch inwardly. _'Damn you, Potter!'_

"You heard him, Ferret, shoo!" Fred stated, making slight waving motions with his hands.

"I heard him, but I've never read any law that said I had to obey him, Weasley. I'm not part of his adoring public or a pathetic fan who hangs on his every word like he is some sort of a god." 

It came out a little bit more bitter than he had intended but it had always grated on him how Potter had managed to attract people to him so easily. All those people who watched his every move, those who smiled and joked with him, and especially those who were lucky enough to be allowed to know him as well as these four did. He hated them all! And damn it he hated himself for wanting to be one of them!

"Come off it, Malfoy," Hermione responded before either of the Weasleys had a chance. "Let's all enjoy our last days of separation, we'll be seeing more than enough of each other during the school year."

"Not if I can help it," Ron murmured earning him a few muffled snickers and a glare from Hermione.

"Merlin knows, I could use less of you in my life, Weasel," Draco spat.

Daggers glinted from Ron's eyes as he stood up, his chair scrapping against the ground before falling backwards. The sound of metal and stone resounded, harsh and sharp in the air. The clamor and the sound of Ron's footsteps as he made his way around the table seemed to add to the din, but none of it registered to Draco. He stood there, calm and waiting, but Ron never made it around.

"Then do yourself and us a favor and bugger off." 

The voice had been soft but something in it had stopped Ron in mid-motion of trying to get around the table to Draco and they both looked over at Harry. Again his eyes rose to meet Draco's, calm and blank as he surveyed the blonde. Draco searched it, but Harry's face was closed, just as it always was when the raven-haired boy confronted him. Whatever he was thinking was held tightly behind the wall he had put up. 

_'Ah, now there's the Potter I know and *hate*,' _Draco laughed sarcastically to himself, _'At least I am more familiar with this side of myself.'_

"I don't do charity work, Potter." smirking, he leaned back against a lamppost. "And besides, I *am* doing myself a favor. I haven't been this entertained all day."

"I've no doubt about that," Hermione interjected stiffly, "even insulting you, we have to be more stimulating than your normal company."

"Yeah," Ron grabbed at the opening, trying to get back into the conversation, "Speaking of which, where are your bodyguards?"

Draco shrugged, "I don't know, haven't seen them all summer." '_Liar.' _"I don't need them to deal with the likes of you Weasel." _'That was true enough… Great! Now I am arguing with myself.'_

Ron took a step forward, but Harry put his arm out and held him back.

"Come on, Weasel, let's test my boast." Draco egged on. It should have frightened him how easily he slipped back into the role of smug Slytherin bad-boy, but it didn't. "Don't let Potter stop you. We're not at Hogwarts yet, no points will be taken from your precious house."

_'Don't get too comfortable, Idiot!' _Draco mentally reprimanded himself. _'Go too far and you lose who you are, any chance at making the stupid prophesy come to fruition, and… well, lets not get into that.'_

"Don't you have anything better to do, Malfoy?" Harry glared at him from behind the surface of his glasses.

"Not particularly." He smirked, "In fact, I just finished. I have the rest of the day free."

"Well don't let us keep you." George spoke up again.

"There must be something that you need to be doing." Fred added. "Bleaching your roots? Getting a manicure? Sacrificing innocent animals?"

Draco grinned, "First off, my hair is naturally this color. Second," he brought his hand up to examine them, "already had one this morning." He snickered at the aghast looks on the boys faces who shamefully hid their own nails, even Harry, "And third, I don't do sacrificial; one because it is against my beliefs, whether you believe me or not I couldn't care less, and two," he continued, ticking off the reasons with his fingers, "it would ruin my manicure."  


"Well *we*" Harry stressed, "don't have the luxury of a free day. We have to be going." Harry turned to the other four. "They'll be waiting."

"Have a curfew, Potter?" Draco joked.

"Not really," Harry shrugged, "just a promise to keep." Standing up he began to walk away from Florean's and Draco, "Something you would know nothing about." the others followed, smiles tugging at their lips.

Undeterred, Draco walked after them, catching them up. "I'll just see you to your destination," he grinned.

"Insufferable git!" Harry scowled. 

"I'm beginning to think you don't want me around, Potter." 

"Ten points to Slytherin for that remarkable display of deduction," Harry growled sarcastically. 

Before Draco could answer a low growl sounded in front of him. It wasn't Potter this time, it was lower and animalistic. Looking forward, Draco paused, face to face with a large, black, shaggy dog. Beside it stood the wary figures of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 

"We've been waiting. Where have you five been?" 

___________________________

Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded annoyed, but the relief behind it had Harry relaxing slightly. They had lost track of the time at Florean's and then Draco had showed up. Safe to say, they were a good twenty minutes late meeting back up with the others. 

"Uh…" 

"Um…" 

"Well…" 

"You see…"

"We were... Uh…"

The uncertain replies stammered down through the five of them, but they were cut off before any could come up with a whole sentence.

"We were worried sick." Mrs. Weasley continued, her gaze trailing down the line of them. "Anything could have happened! It isn't safe. Especially for you Har…" Her voice trailed off abruptly as her eyes caught sight of Draco. 

He had been the only one who remained straight and silent, a slightly bored expression on his face as he watched the exchange. Smiling back at her he held her startled gaze. "Mrs. Weasley, pleasure to see you again." he stated pleasantly, inclining his head slightly in greeting.

Draco's smile grew wider and Harry could only stare, shocked into silence. Whatever he had imagined of Malfoy, greeting one of the Weasleys with any semblance of courtesy was definitely not on that list. He could sense the echoing stares of Ron and Hermione at his back. The twins seemed to be handling it better although they too were silent. This had to be a miracle; two first in one day: Draco Malfoy being pleasant to a Weasley, and five Weasleys all silent at once.

Clearing her throat, Mrs. Weasley struggled to find a reply. Failing, she looked around helplessly. Her husband came to her rescue.

Smiling warmly, Arthur Weasley stepped forward, hand extended, "Mr. Malfoy," he addressed kindly.

"Call me Draco, please, Mr. Weasley." Draco interrupted taking Mr. Weasley's hand in his own, shaking it firmly. "'Mr. Malfoy' sounds too much like my father. No need to be formal after all."

"Well, Draco." Mr. Weasley fumbled over the name as both of them withdrew their hands. He recovered quickly, his smiled brightened toward the blonde youth. Harry wondered how relieved Mr. Weasley was now that he didn't have to use the name Malfoy. "Since it seems we have a first name basis beginning, why not just call me Arthur, hm?"

Smirking, Draco agreed.

Confused, Harry turned to the other four for an explanation. Their faces reflected his own confusion. They would be no help, so Harry tuned back into the conversation. Draco and Mr. Weasley had begun talking over the latest restriction on enchanted muggle objects. Arthur was thrilled at the subject and Draco seemed to take it in stride, adding his own ideas in here and there, but generally listening. Actually *listening*.

_'How does he do that?' _Harry wondered, _'Just a moment ago he was his old insensitive self, exchanging insults with Ron like there was no other purpose in life, and now he's standing here discussing *muggle* objects with Ron's dad as if they had been friends for years.'_

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but I must decline the invitation."

Draco's voice roused Harry from his thoughts. _'Invitation? What invitation?' _Looking around at the others Harry noticed that Molly was fidgeting, Ron had gone pale, Fred and George looked more sober than Harry had ever seen them, and Sirius was coiled tightly snarling his dislike. Looking over at Hermione, she alone appeared thoughtful, calmer than she had before.

"Are you sure, Draco? I am sure no one would mind another person for dinner." Mr. Weasley entreated, ignoring everyone else.

Draco grinned, "I'm not too sure about that." Mr. Weasley looked at the expressions of those around him. Harry saw comprehension dawn on his face as Draco continued, "Besides, I am expect back at the Manor in an half an hour and if I am late Father wont be pleased. Also, I have one more stop to make before leaving Diagon Alley."

Mr. Weasley sighed, defeated, "Ok, ok." he mumbled good naturedly, his hand coming to rest on Draco's shoulder companionably. "Another time perhaps."

Harry held his breath as Draco's shoulders stiffened under the other man's hand, a shadow flitting across Draco's face before being covered quickly. "Absolutely," Draco replied almost cheerfully, his shoulders relaxing as he moved back to take Mr. Weasley's hand again. "Until then."

Arthur smiled, "Until then, Draco."

Nodding to each of them in turn, Draco made his way back the way they had come. Casting a glance at Hermione and Ron, Harry hurried after Draco. He had stopped a little way ahead waiting for Harry to catch up to him.

______________________________

"Yes, Potter?" 

The drawl was back in his voice.

"I thought you said you had nothing else to do, Malfoy." 

"I lied." amusement filtered through his voice, "After all this time I thought you would have been able to guess. Isn't that what I am best at?" The question was directed more at himself than Harry, but it would serve him either way.

Harry shifted uncomfortably for a while before impatience and curiosity got the best of him, "What the hell was that?"

This time Draco turned around to meet his eyes, gray shimmered silver in the fading sunlight. "It is commonly called having a conversation. It is what most civilized people do, Potter."

"I know what a conversation is, damn it" Harry ground out between his teeth. Annoyance was rising not so slowly into his voice, "What I don't understand is your sudden change of character. Last year you wouldn't have spared a glance at Mr. Weasley and now, after a quick hand shake you two are on first name basis and chatting up about his work. *Muggle* related work at that."

"I wasn't under the impression that being nice and courteous was a crime. Even if it is me," he added. "I can be cruel and harsh, as you know, but I can also be fairly civil! I am not perfect. I am only human," _'Well, partly',_ "Potter, I make mistakes just like you. Oh! Wait! You're Harry Fucking Potter and *you* don't make mistakes do you?" He was slowly losing control; his arguments were getting weak and erratic. He didn't give a shit and apparently neither did the raven-haired boy.

Harry jumped straight to his own accusations. Draco's word had struck a sore spot and he did want to dwell on it too much. "I don't know what you're playing at, but stop it!"

"Stop what? Having conversations? Being nice? Isn't that what you keep telling me to do? Make up your mind, Potter. I can't obey if you don't tell me what I should be doing." Draco spat, causing the others to look over at them. Sighing tiredly he added, "The Lord and Lady only know why I trouble myself! May they bless the poor fool who can understand what you're about, believe me, they'll need it to put up with your shit, Potter!"

Ron started to step forward, but Harry motioned him back.

"Then I will be calm and *try* to teach you to understand the English of normal people for once. Five minutes before now you were swapping insults with Ron. Vehemently I might add" Harry said calmly, "That is an awfully quick transition, even for one as great as you, from the attitude you had for Ron to the attitude that allowed you to get along with his father like a feeling human being."

"You don't know me, Potter." Draco growled.

"Your right, I don't."

"Don't patronize me!" even to himself his words were petty and meaningless.

"After that poor comeback?" Harry smirked and Draco decided he didn't like how it looked on him. "You're probably doing a better job at it than I would ever do."

Smirking Draco retorted, "Maybe you do know me a little. Now, bugger off, Potter."

Harry forced a grin from his face, "That's exactly what I am talking about. You keep slipping up every now and then, by acting like you have a heart. Before telling me to bugger off you accidentally paid me a compliment, or what I assume you meant as a compliment although I am not sure. What would your father say if he had heard that just now?" He fought to keep his mouth in a thin line. "So…"

"So what, Potter?" Draco sounded slightly annoyed. The talk of him having no heart and the mention of his father hit him hard. _'If only you knew…' _Tired beyond reason he tried to pull the conversation to a halt, "Like I said, I have something to attend to before I go back to the slave galley."

Harry raised his eyebrow but didn't comment on the last statement. "So, how long do you think you can keep this up?" Harry asked.

"I've been doing it since I learned to talk, what is your excuse?" Draco mumbled incoherently.

"What?" Harry hadn't been able to pick out the words.

Draco sneered, trying to recover himself, "As long as you can, Potter."

"I don't understand."

Laughing softly, "Well, that's a first isn't it?" he asked sarcastically.

"Nevermind." Harry was frustrated by now. "Like Hermione said, lets continue this at school when we can't help but run into each other."

"Fine. See you then." Draco turned away, beginning to walk away again.

Harry turned back, joining his friends again and they headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.

At a safe distance Draco mumbled a silent prayer and whispered, "Blessed Be, Harry…"

_____________________

As Draco turned down toward Knockturn Alley, he allowed himself one thought before entering the shadows. Here, straying thoughts could be deadly.

_'I was glad to see you alive, Harry. Glad to know that I helped in that. I was worried.' _frowning he ended his thoughts, _'One day I'll drop this facade, Harry. One day, you will have to face your own…'_

Stopping in front of rundown shop, a sign above its door spelling in peeling red paint the name 'Adava's Antiques and Artifacts'. The windows were pitch black with grime and soot aided by blocking spells. As he stepped up to the door, wand in hand he muttered an indistinct word and touched the center of the door.

It opened, a black hooded man ushering him in.

He entered.

The door closed.

Silence filled the darkened alley.


	5. Stirrings of a Sleepless Night

****

Dear Readers,

I would like to that you all for your patience and comments and support. I hope that it hasn't been in vain. I finally pulled this together and have decided to post it. Please if you find anything wrong or good, I want to know about it. Just drop me a comment on what you thought of it. The next chapter is in the works as we speak and I am working on another stand alone. I have opened an account at FictionPress.com and have posted an original work as well as done a few more stories here… whether you are reading them or not know that those that are a series are being worked on.

Thank you all. Without you there for me I wouldn't be able to continue.

^_^ Keep reading…

Now on to the story… (remember… Disclaimer and warnings are before every story)

** **

_________________________________________________________________________

----Draco POV---

__

I wince. The rivulets of torn flesh pulsed with pain as they rub against my shirt. 

Even silk feels like gravel against my abused skin.

They'll fade. They always do. My Power wont let them remain long and soon my back will be smooth, pale, and flawless once more. Too bad he realized it.

"Damn him!" I curse under my breath as I lean back against the roof. Focusing on the rise and fall of my breathing I push the pain from my mind. 

A useful accessory to have, that distancing of mind and body. It would be permanent if I could maintain it, but it takes focus and concentration that no one can maintain against the searing and fiery kiss of a whip. So, the blessing fails me when most needed.

Of course if it weren't for my futile struggles and inventive vocabulary during the sessions I am sure that the lacerations would never cease. That is his pleasure, his purge, and his escape.

My cries of pain and offering of blood are exactly what he seeks; and I give them to him. I have learned the art of torture through torture. I could tell you exactly which slant of the lash brings the most blood, and which the most lasting pain. With time I have grown accustomed to the chaffing of metal restraints, the bite of leather, and the coppery taste of oblivion, I can survive them. A blessing in disguised? 

No.… I can't say that I would have relived the entire period, for the simple ability to stand it.

I never wanted that and if I could have lived without it I would have been grateful, but, as he repeats constantly, like a chant: "Father knows best."

Each repetition emphasized with a sharp crack and even sharper lick of leather until I could swear that the words are imprinted under my very skin, tattooed eternally upon my flesh and soul.

He never over does it, never finishes what he started when I was conceived. I am too valuable a toy. The **Master** would be displeased if I were lost.

Even beyond my Power I am a treasure for my simple ability to heal quickly and well. Every Death Eater should own one. I can see the advertising now.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

**__**

Is you dungeon becoming too monotonous and crowded?

Victims dying too quickly?

Need something new that will last a lifetime of torture?

Voldemort Enterprises in conjunction with Malfoy Inc. are please to present to you...

!Draco Malfoy!

The self-healing whipping toy!

Perfect for your every sadistic enjoyment!

Ensured to last a lifetime, HIS!

Limited time only. Void where prohibited. One Year Guarantee._________ _______

__

If they could find a way to mass-produce me it wouldn't be near as humorous as it sounds. They'd attempt it if it were possible; it isn't, but they don't understand that. What I am cannot be duplicated. I am unique and one-of-a-kind. Well, not entirely anyway. I mean, I am not alone after all.

I am not the only one with such abilities. There are four of us, all told, different and yet so similar. Unique, wondrous, and damned by the very magick that courses through our veins. Burdened with choices and a fate that is already determined. 

Written in the goddamned stars no less! Never mind on parchment where manipulative hands could grasp it and seek to twist and bend it to their will.

I wont let them! I wont let it work its course!

… For you… Only for you…

You have no idea; do you, of just how much I am willing to sacrifice for you. It was such a quick change, such a swift shock to the system, the moment that I learned that I loved you. A change of direction that comes that fast is both steadfast and true or a momentary lie that comes with desperation and a loss of mind.

The first few weeks of realization were spent in denial. I wanted to be insane, to have it all put down to the latter consequence. Love wasn't written in my stars; marriage by alliance, death and darkness by birthright, and isolation by choice were always there. I always knew what was in my future. It use to break my mother's heart, that despairing, bleak, and, unfortunately, unerring view that I expressed about my future. She was robbed of the hope, joy, and thrilling uncertainty of her child's course in life. That which every mother should be entitled to: concern, anticipation, innocent joy, was all stolen from her the moment she was born.

It is strange the similarity between us; mother and son, both deprived of freewill, our course set by other hands before we could even comprehend what life was. She was born, bred, and trained as a dutiful and demure wife, but within her is a wild streak so cleverly disguised that even my father over looks it, and that is saying something.

Betrothed, bound, and heartbroken, she was given to my father. She tried to love him, I have seen it. Desperation to hold onto something precious and forbidden lighting her eyes as she continually goes out of her way to please him. It is beautiful, sad, and sickening all at the same time.

I use to wonder if that is what awaited me in my betrothal.

I glance down at the ring encircling my pinky. 

A grand and delicate affair of silver and gold intertwined in snake-like coils with a center piece of peridot and amethyst resembling a snake and a weasel; the symbols of mine and Pansy's families. I hate the ring and usually don't wear it outside of Malfoy Manor.

My father insists upon it and with Pansy's family in constant attendance in our home he makes sure that it never leaves my finger in their presence. But he can't enforce it in Hogwarts and Pansy is easily satisfied with my defense of not wishing to damage it.

I slip it from my finger and bring it to reflect the moonlight. 

It is beautiful and I always find it humorous that Pansy's family adopted the weasel as its symbol. It is quite fitting.

I slip it back onto my finger and smile as a breeze blows against my face. 

Cool and gentle. 

Turning my face and mind from Malfoy Manor and all things connected with it, I turn to the stars and darkened skies. 

It is exciting to have high goals and yet it is torture, as I struggle to them, to think that I might not reach them. 

To think that I might not reach you.

I wonder if you realize that Pansy gets upset when I call Weasley 'Weasel', she feels insulted at the thought of any comparison between her family and him, even if it really isn't a comparison. She is such a vain and petty git. Ron bears no similarity to a weasel, besides his name of course. You know, the only reason that I continued to name him such was that I realized the effect it had on Pansy. Don't get me wrong; of course I enjoyed Weasley's reaction, it gave me such power of him, and I loved power… still do in some ways, but I use to hope that she would become so upset that she would call the engagement off, but the draw of power and the teachings of her family have left her steadfast at my side, or rather trailing safely behind me.

I don't want someone to walk behind me, to hide behind my status and name, who only supports when it gives them the advantage. I want someone who will walk beside me, someone with the character and strength to stand on their own, who **loves **me to the point that they support me because of me. It is an impossible desire, but I have found it and knowing it is worse than simply having the desire because now that I know you I know what I am missing every moment that you are not beside me, every moment that you don't love me.

I knew, unconsciously, that we belonged together all along. My father use to tell me about you, it was a topic of unending shame for him. Even when I knew that I would not be allowed to know you, you were on the 'wrong' side after all, I wanted to know you. I guess I have always wanted the impossible and Harry, you are impossible.

Even in pain you make me smile. That first day, the day that I asked you for your hand, I was ready and prepared, supported in my young and impetuous nature, to dare against my father just for the chance to know you. Something in your eyes, wide with wonder, gave me hope for a chance that I didn't even know that I wanted. You denied me of course. If I had been you I would have done the same thing. I was superficial prick and still am in some ways. Even if I was willing to chance any bond with you I wasn't open-minded enough to accept Weasley or Granger. What unknown love and awe could allow me to by pass in you; the teachings and upbringing I received were too engrained back then to allow me to accept them.

Now I know that not everything I knew was true.

Shocking isn't it?

I can see the constellation of Orion now. It is just over the tips of the ancient trees. I use to come out here and talk to him when I was younger. Looking back it is funny to see just how much of the conversations revolved around you, of course they weren't the nicest of comments. I smile to think of it now, but then I would have been ashamed at how much I let you pray on my mind, so much. I was too arrogant to realize the symptoms.

Did you know that Orion use to be worshipped by the Egyptians as a symbol of Osiris? To think all that time I was conversing with a god. Interesting to look back on now, living the dark life that my father set for me and yet to have such simplistic innocence! I can't even imagine how you must have been.

Of course, you're life wasn't that great now was it? I have heard rumors about your life with the muggles. Our pasts are both harsh aren't they?

We are what our pasts have molded. 

But future is ours to mold.

Together…

I close my eyes, drawing your face to mind. 

Emerald eyes, intense, penetrating, and brilliant. ebony hai---

"Shit! What now?"

I can feel the light tremor of the roof beneath me; father calling me to him. 

Like a good pet I'll obey, like a good son I will follow behind him in darkness.

But like a better spy I will watch, learn and report. 

Betrayal is hereditary anyway, right?

I leap from the edge of the roof, the brief desire to let gravity do its work, to let the ground have me, to let go of everything for good, tempts me for a whole second before your smile lights the darkness that has crept around me. 

A light in the darkness. A faint promise glistening in a sea of despair. You are what keeps me going.

I stop myself, this time like all other times before and all other times that will come after. I can't leave. I wont. Not yet. I have a part to play and the show must go on.

I have you… even if you don't know it.

The ground is springy beneath my soft leather boots, dew already forming on the individual blades. Such beauty in a world soon to be swallowed in the throws and terrors of war. 

Between the roof and ground I have melded my mind and body together again and with each step the dulling throb of my wounds reminds me of fate. They are already beginning to recede and soon will be but pink lines lingering as a painless reminder until they too pale and smooth over. 

I run my hand along the outer wall of the manor taking pleasure and strength from their rough and solid foundation and support. 

It is strange that I should draw my courage from the very place where my cries, screams, tears, blood, and sorrow echo from ever hallway and passage, but such is the turn of fate. More cruelty and deception have been executed within these walls than joy; decades of Malfoys have walked and breathed through the countless rooms, but I will be the first to betray the essence of our family for love rather than political gain or revenge.

Even with that I belong, belong as sure as if I were the very cornerstone of the building, as if I had existed here since it was first erected. I am a Malfoy after all and even with the distinction of my birthright and choices, at the core I am a Malfoy, bound to the heritage of my ancestors, cruel and manipulative as they may be, by pride, foundation, and a legacy that transcends all things.

I reach the side parlor door and enter into the house. 

I can feel the darkness, thick and suffocating, lingering in every crevice. It is strong and I know that **he **is here. It must be a private matter, perhaps a last minute lesson before my journey to Hogwarts, because he didn't call everyone via the Mark.

I turn my head sharply, his power reaching my senses, cold, clammy, and reeking of death. 

It is nauseating and putrid completely unlike my love's. He has taken something and made a detestable and misshapen replica of it.

The Sangoire Room. That is where I will find him. 

I narrow my eyes toward the door.

That is where I will find him and father.

Pushing my mind from my love, my deception, and my knowledge, I step toward the room. Maniac he may be, but Voldemort has the Power to use my thoughts against me.

I open the double doors, taking a deep inner breath and draw upon the strength of my family legacy, my home, and my soul. Stepping forward I enter the room becoming the Malfoy Heir, the Master's Pet, my Father's Whipping Toy, and another darkened soul lost to the mask and mark of the Death Eaters.

I close the door.

Closing myself into a blood-colored room, into a darkness that is virtually impenetrable, into a fate that was decreed long ago.

I close myself into the hands of those I despise.

Voluntarily walking into Hell….

For you… only for you…

****

___________---Sangoire Room---__________________

_Blood- the essence of life. The Purger. Through blood all things are cleansed. All things are pure._

Blood was perfect… and it was exactly what Voldemort preferred.

"Lucius…" the raspy voice cooed.

A pale blade of light cut through the darkness of the room, widened as a shadow moved through it, and then narrowed into oblivion as if it had never been. The door closed.

"You're late." The voice spoke again. "Perhaps your master's call is not worthy of your speed."

The flames from the fire place cast a deathly light into the room, illuminating the furniture and walls in brilliant shades of blood. Red filled the room, outlining and defining the folds of the cloaked figure that stood before the fire. Behind it a bowed figure stood motionless, its length of hair glowing with the reflected fire light as it cascaded toward the floor.

"You have learned well, Lucius," the hooded figure creaked in laughter. "Straighten yourself and speak!"

Gracefully the figure complied, running a hand through his hair as the face of Lucius Malfoy appeared from behind it, blank and shadowed.

"My Lord, please forgive me. Your arrival was unexpected. Pleasant but unexpected." 

The pleading and submission in the noble voice would have left a bad taste in anyone mouth but Voldemort, it thrilled him to no end. That unquestioning subservience that seeped from the usually revered man was an intoxication that could never be rivaled.

"Next time put more effort into your speed."

"Yes, my Lord."

The smile that spread beneath the hood of the cloak was as sweet as acid and seemed to eat a malformed crescent into the flesh. Power was a drug. An addictive one.

"Where is the boy?"

"Within his room, my Lord." The nobility wavered in uncertainty.

"You don't know where our most precious weapon is? Careless, Lucius, very careless."

"Shall I summon him, Lord?" Fear permeated the air in waves; the softness in the words was never a good sign.

"No. No, not yet."

Time passed and only the crackling of the fire broke the silence that fell. 

"You're son, Lucius…," the cloaked figure ventured thoughtfully, "His training. Has he improved?"

"Greatly, Lord"

"And his mind, his secrets… is there any chance of rebellion from him?"

Lucius straighten, a frown marring his perfect features, "No, my Lord."

"You place much faith into a child. One that you teach with a whip and a backhand." He paused, felt the blonde stirring uncomfortably under the statement. "Or perhaps, you place faith your name and his fear."

Lucius stood unmoving. Silence was sometime the safest route.

"Nothing to venture? Very well." The cloak figure turned, the cloth of his cloak rustling as it moved forward. "I have my doubts, Lucius. You're son is still a boy…"

"He is a Malfoy." Asserted Lucius.

"Pride. Another Malfoy trait. You have better watch that one.. And your temperment." The figure whispered harshly as it circled the blonde. "Remember who I am."

"Forgive me…" Lucius bowed his head. "Lord."

"He is still a _boy_" The figure repeated, emphasizing the word in challenge. "And the legend, as it was recovered, is incomplete. I don't like incomplete prophesies, too many things depend upon but a few words and everything depends on the whim of a _boy_."

Lucius bridled but kept silent.

"I wont chance it. Not this close to victory. Now, is the _boy _unswervingly loyal to the cause or not?"

The blonde hesitated, "Absolutely, my Lord."

"Not very convincing, _Malfoy_! Is he or isn't he?"

"I have raised him hatred of mudbloods and muggles, with the knowledge of what should be and what must change." 

"I am not asking for your references as a father or your son's rearing. Can he be counted upon?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Very well." The figure retreated to his seat before the fire. The black cloak against the blood red chair with the fire blaring behind it would have put any muggle Christian in mind of Satan. "Summon him."

Lucius knelt to the floor, murmuring an incantation, and the house vibrated subtly outward as he summoned his son.

"Tomorrow he will return to Hogwarts and I wish to view his progress, address him of his mission, and if necessary instruct him where you have failed. The Dragon must be prepared."

Lucius turned his head slightly as the door swung silently open.

"Enter….. Draco…"

______________________________________

****

---- Harry POV ----

__

Moonlight slips into my room, illuminating object in delicate silver; familiar and foreign alike. it's the same room I stayed in during my third year and nothing has changed since then except the addition of my godfather's sleeping form curled at the foot of my bed. So many other things have changed since then, but the room remains the same. Before the end of third term I would have committed to St. Mungo's anyone who would have told me that I would find myself in the company of a convicted murderer, accused of betraying my parents. He didn't do it of course, but there are only a select few who know that. Change is one of the few constants in this world. Slightly contradictory I would think and yet it makes perfect sense.

Times change, situations change, and, most importantly, people change. People…

Sirius has changed. I am thankful for that. Some of the pain and despair has left him since I first met him in the Shrieking Shack near Hogsmeade. A turning point in both our lives: he found hope and I found family. I can't take all the credit for his change though, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore have helped as well, but I think it was Professor Lupin and myself that really made the difference. Sirius had been staying with Lupin since spring when the Ministry backed off its search because of more pressing matters. Death Eaters. They wont admit it, or actually Fudge wont, but during fifth term Dark Arts activity and muggle related incidents increased. So while they were out chasing the beginning crests of Voldemort's building storm, Sirius and Lupin took the opportunity to catch up and heal.

Then the letter came and their time ended. Sirius insisted on going with Lupin to #4 to make sure I was okay. They argued; Sirius' passion against Lupin's logic, but in the end Sirius won. The fact that the Ministry had no idea of Sirius being an animagus, that they weren't aware of the threat to myself, and the indisputable fact that they were in such an uproar with all the Dark Arts activity that they would hardly notice what was to take place at Privet Drive led to Lupin's surrender and Sirius went. It wasn't that Lupin didn't have any logical arguments against it, but they were wasting valuable time and he was smart enough to realize that this was one dispute he wouldn't win. He had had no intention of leaving Sirius behind anyway, but he felt in necessary to attempt talking reason. 

I wonder what would have happened if the attack hadn't come. I would have finished out the summer with the Dursley's; that's no trouble, I've put up with them for the last 16 yrs of my life, but would those extra days have made a difference with Sirius? 

I feel bad that I am grateful that Sirius is here with me, grateful that I am not back there with the Dursley's. In the few months that he and Lupin spent together the darkness had lightened around him. If the attack hadn't come and he had remained there for another month or more how much more would his spirit have been restored. Once I thought that he would never be completely himself, I mean, one doesn't just walk out of twelve years of Azkaban and return carefree and smiling, but I have hope now. Nothing is impossible. 

Friendships can be its own miracle I guess.

I glance over at my watch on the nightstand. 

It's three in the morning, but I can't sleep and the moon is calling me to the window. 

Pushing the covers away I sit up, slipping a t-shirt over my head before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. 

Sirius stirs , shifting to glance sleepily at me before curling back into whatever dream he was having. 

He's use to my nighttime routine by now. He's not pleased with it, but there isn't much he can do about it. We've tried everything we could think of, but nothing works. He even went to Snape to ask for a sleeping potion. I don't know how much it cost his pride to do that, but I sure it was a lot, and I felt bad that it had been for nothing; I still woke up in the early morning hours, sleep eluding me once more. In the end we admitted defeated and what we couldn't beat we accepted.

I just don't sleep much anymore, not since the episode at the beginning of the summer. Thirty-five hours straight sleep had to have had some effect on my sleeping behavior so right after the incident I assumed that the lack of sleep was because of having been out for so long. I thought that it was probably the opposite of catching up on sleep; I thought I was just catch up on consciousness. 

I hated the insomnia, still do every now and then. Sleep was my favorite part of summer when I staying with the Durstleys, but it was kind of nice to have the run of the house while they were asleep. As long as I kept quiet it was almost peaceful.. 

Sleep was a way of escape no matter where I was: Privet Drive or Hogwarts. No matter what was happening and as long as Voldemort's plans left my scar and sleep untroubled I could find peace. Sleep allowed everything in my mind to pan out while I rested, making it easier to see and understand. Now there is no rest, no end to the worries, the what if's, and the confusion that floods my mind. Since my 'night walks' began I've hardly dreamed at all and if I have I can't remember any of them. There isn't time in the 2 or 3 hours that I manage to take in I suppose.

I told Dumbledore about the insomnia when he showed me the letter and I know that Sirius keeps him up to date on what is going on here. He's worried, I can tell. When I told him his eyes took on that concerned aged look that he gets whenever I mention Voldemort or the war. When he suggested that it was connected with Voldemort, similar to the headaches that I get when he is near, and I told him that it didn't feel that way, his visage lightened. 

It isn't the same. I know that much. Something is wrong with me, but it has little if anything to do with Voldemort. After one of those nightmares I was always shaky and tired. I'm never tired now. I'm sluggish when I first get up but it seems more from a build up of unused energy than a lack of any. Also it's like- it's like…

There is something missing…

Oh well. No use obsessing over it until I know what is wrong.

Even if something weren't wrong with me I would be up now anyway, tonight I have an excuse: tomorrow, or rather later today I suppose, I will be back within the wall of Hogwarts. It is strange how comforting those walls of stone and magick have become. I've spent more time at the Dursley's than Hogwarts, but it is Hogwarts that I think of as home. Comforting, stable and supportive, but…

Even there things are changing…

I hold back a shiver as I set foot on the chill floor, reaching into the nightstand for a crumbled piece of parchment before standing up and walking to the window. 

I think I have an obsession with windows; in my first year I sat at the window of my dorm room and looked out over the grounds in amazement and disbelief. Now, it's just become habit and since my insomnia started it has become routine to stand at a window and look out. Not at anything in particular but just out. 

I've changed so much and sometimes I wonder if that isn't why I look out of the window, out away from what is happening, away from the changes that are taking place. When I look out I can watch the world change from a spectators perspective. When I look out it is almost as if I am disconnected from the world. It may be changing but by looking out through window I don't have to participate, I'm not effected by it, and most importantly, I don't have to deal with my own change. 

I think that is the worst part of everything. I can watch other people change, I've watched Ron and Hermione growing closer together and, except for the frustration that comes from their blindness to it, I've survived it tolerably well, but my changes are different. They're personal and because they are happening to me I can't stand back watching and see everything clearly. I don't know the next step that should be taken and that is the worst part of all; the uncertainty.

Lifting the letter in my hand I open it, the purple letters reflecting the moonlight. Closing my eyes I struggle again with the inner turmoil that washes through me.

**This** change is **different** and I am not sure I want it. I still can't believe you sent this to me. I can't believe the conversation we had that day. 

Leaning against the window sill I look down at the letter, the handwriting readable but hasty.

What were you doing when you were writing? 

Who was around? 

Who knows?

What were you thinking when you wrote it?

I've put off replying to the letter. I can't think clearly and every time I pick up a quill to scribble a reply my hand shakes. 

I'll see you at Hogwarts tomorrow anyway right? Perhaps even on the express. Is that why I can't sleep tonight? Why I'm holding your letter? Why your face keeps sliding into my thoughts? Is it just worry over what to say or is it something more?

I can't believe I am even considering this!

This isn't how it was suppose to be. It's wrong. **We're** wrong. It just wouldn't work out! Would it? I mean, we're both **boys** for Heaven's sake! Doesn't that complicate things a bit? It isn't suppose to be like this.

I'm not suppose to be this way!!

I close my eyes again as if it will block out everything. It only makes things worse as you slip inside my head, your features vivid as you grin at me. I shiver as the phantom memory of your arms returns around my waist.

"Cho.." I whisper. 

Even my whisper is desperate and fierce. 

"What about Cho? Isn't she the one that I like?"

If it isn't suppose to happen then why do I see you when I close my eyes. Your smile. Your eyes. You. If I'm not suppose to feel this way then why do I remember your touch. Your hand. Your arms. Your lips…

I turn away angrily from the window, fold my arms across my chest, accidentally crumpling your letter again.

This **is **wrong. It has to be!!

*"Harry?"*

I look up at Sirius, his human form watching me with unmasked worry.

"Sorry Sirius." I apologize and force a smile to my lips, noticing his concern. This isn't the first time he has caught me mentally arguing with myself.

*"Something wrong?"*

"No…" I lie "I just can't sleep again" 

I can tell he doesn't believe me, its written on his face. I want to tell him but how do you tell your godfather that you have feelings for another boy? I don't know how he will react. I don't even know what my final reaction will be.

*"Are you sure?"*

I'm tempted for a moment. Maybe I would feel better if I got the burden off my chest, but I can't. 

"I'm sure. It's nothing. Really"

Raising an eyebrow and giving me a concerned and slightly hurt look he lays back down, returning to his canine form.

Lying is becoming second nature to me now. It comes easily and I wonder if that is a part of me that made the Sorting Hat consider Slytherin. I hate it, where ever it comes from. It hurts. It hurts lying to him. To everyone. It always hurts when I lie to people close to me, but how can I explain what I am going through when I don't even know for myself. Everything was so simply before these feelings.

See I'm even lying to myself now. It doesn't hurt as much as lying to others but it makes me feel sick to my stomach. 

Things have never been simple. Not for me. Not for those who know me. These feelings are just a scapegoat for all my anger. Anger at Voldemort. At Wormtail. At the Death Eaters. At fate. At myself…

Everyone is always so understanding, so kind. 'You're only human', they say or I hear them talking to each other about how I'm 'only a child'. I know I'm young and not yet a full wizard, but I should be able to do more. I should! 

Ron and Hermione think that it is just because of all the pressure and mystery about my scar and how I got it, that causes me to feel inadequate. They say that it is the whole 'Boy-who-lived' propaganda being forced on me that has something to do with it, or rather Hermione does. Ron is just there and listens to her theories, looking at me every now and then like she has gone off the deep end. She even has an entire speech memorized about the psychological trauma I have been subjected to. 

It's nice to know that she thinks I have mental problems.

Okay, okay… I know that I am overreacting. She doesn't really think that, but sometimes I feel like I do have problems. Besides the whole Voldemort wanting me dead thing that is. That is always a damper on everything, but…

Still…

There is just this part of me that doesn't feel right-- about myself and my abilities. It's like part of me isn't even here, like I am only half a person. I never really noticed it until my fourth year. I don't like thinking about that year, but I have to face the fact that I never really noticed the absence in myself until the confrontation with Voldemort. Until my failure to save Cedric…

I made the mistake of telling Hermione and Ron that one night. I can't stand it when they look at me with pity and I can't explain to them that it isn't just his death that affects me, it's the fact that I wasn't strong enough, even when our wands were connected it was too close a triumph. I could feel something (magick, power, or maybe both), it was there but I couldn't tap into it, or rather I couldn't free it. It was like it was restrained, trapped.

How do you explain, even to your friends, that you can feel something surging within you? How do you tell them that there is a part of you missing? 

They know me better than anyone else and still they don't know me. I don't even know myself and I think that that is what really bothers me. 

That uncertainty is what sent me wandering every night through Hogwarts and inevitably the Astronomy Tower. I thought that I could find the answer if I had time to think over everything, and also, it allowed me to self-heal after Cedric's death.

Instead of answers I found more questions and a new problem… 

Actually you found me…

I turn my head glancing back out the window. 

It's wonderful how the lamps have been enchanted to let the night sky filter through. The stars can be seen anywhere in town, even directly beneath a lamppost, and still they look as bright and clear as if you were in the country. Its magnificent. It reminds me of my escapades to the Astronomy Tower during the night. 

I thought I was being so brilliant with my schemes; careful, cautious, and beyond suspicion.

Ron knew, of course. I expected him to noticed a change in my behavior, but he kept the knowledge to himself. I suppose he thought I needed space after what happened the year before. He was right. That was the reason I started my nighttime trips after all, but you, I never expect you or anyone else to notice. It was a real wake-up call to my ego when you followed me that night.

I grin as I remember the crumpled letter in my hand.

It was really devastating since you learned about the invisibility cloak. The cloak was something personal, a secret between Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, and myself. 

Okay… so it wasn't that big of a secret since so many knew about it…

But…

Also, I felt like it was something special between me and my father, and having you discover it, someone who wasn't exactly in our connected group was frightening. You were an unknown addition and I wasn't sure what you would do with the information.

I feel bad that I've known you for five years, you're even a beater on the Gryffindor quid ditch team, and I don't actually *know* you; don't know if you can truly be trusted or if you are serious in your flirtations. I wont pretend that the thought that this could be a joke, something for fun or publicity, hasn't crossed my mind over and over during the summer. After the episode with Rita Skeeter I have been wary of any repetition of that spectacle. 

How does the wizarding world look at homosexuality?

I never thought about it before. Never thought to ask. There didn't seem to be a need to, at least not for me, I always considered myself devoted to the gentler sex. Although You were very **gentle **that nigh---…

There I go again! I swear! I can't start a thought without it ending up being about you. You'd think I would take a hint right?

Fine!

I take your letter in my hands delicately and begin, vainly, to smooth out the creases. Unfolding it once more I look over your words again, my finger lingering almost lovingly over the curls of ink.

____________________________________________

Harry…

I know that you probably wont appreciate me sending this… especially after what happened that night in the Astronomy Tower. Tell me, how is Hermione recovering from the shock? The look on her face was almost priceless when she walk in on us. 

Sorry 'bout that. I didn't think anyone would come up there that late at night. I should have considered it, I mean, I followed you up there that late, right? But I had ulterior motives huh?

The look on your face… well… I'm sorry about that too. I took advantage of you with the kiss. I am sorry. (About taking advantage, not about kissing you). It was terrible that I did it so close to the end of the year. I hope you weren't too traumatized.

Anyway, since our last conversation the night before we left on the Hogwarts Express, I've been thinking about you and at the risk of alienating you further I was wondering if you would meet me in the second from the last compartment on the train when we leave for school… I want to talk to you.

I have something to ask you…

I'm not signing this. You know who it is anyway so what's the point. Besides I wouldn't want to embarrass you again **_AND _**in front of the muggles. Most don't understand or approve of such things right? Well, I have to go, Mum is calling me.

See you at school Harry.

________________________________________

__

I've already decided to meet you on the train. It would be wrong and cowardly not to. I only have one problem…

What the hell am I going to say to you?

Don't even get me started on that mysterious question of yours. Since I read those words I've come up with roughly two thousand different scenarios…

Sighing I turn away from the window. Clutching your letter in my hand I make my way back around the bed. The shadows shift around me and I look to my watch as I climb back into bed.

5:30

Time sure does fly doesn't it?

Looking back down at your letter I can feel my brows nit with confusion and frustration.

I hate it when the answer just isn't there for me when I want it. You'd think I would be use to it after all the unanswered questions that have surrounded me my whole life, but I'm not.

Opening the drawer in the nightstand, I place your letter, once again crumpled, inside the required potions book, **'Distillation of Death by Draughts'**. 

It was the safest place I could think to put it. Even Hermione dreaded reading it. Who would think that I would open it before school started and I would have to for class?

I place the letter at the beginning of the chapter and glance over the words…

Chapter 15: Pursuit of Immortality.

Chapter fifteen already? I muse.

Your letter has been marking my place. I don't know why I found this book interesting. I hate potions class after all, right? 

Something about immortality, longevity, and the human pursuit of it tugs at me.

Shrugging, I slide the book back into the drawer and close it.

It doesn't help me in regards to you, but it does keep me from thinking about you for hours at a time. 

Grinning I shift down and pull the covers over me. Turning on my side I close my eyes.

Would it surprise you that I actually enjoy my homework now. I'm even in the running for Head Boy next year.

Well, along with two Ravenclaws, Peter O'Connor and Clef Treine I believe, and then Draco Malfoy.

I pause as Malfoy's name runs through my mind.

Unusual…

I smile, turning onto my side.

Too much. There is too much to my life. Sometimes I think that it will kill me before Voldemort has a chance to.

I sigh and give in.

Closing my eyes I push everything away and pray for sleep to take me. For a couple hours anyway… 

****

TBC…

__________________________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed it! Now! Go review! ^_^


	6. For One Reason or Another

****

Author's Note:

Oh My God! By the Goddess! I did it! I can't believe I did it! I updated! I added! And it is freakin' long!!!!

I am so sorry that it took such a long time but I am really booking on this chapter being worth the wait. I worked so hard on it… so long… I truly did love every moment of it. As always your reviews and thoughts are welcomed! Can't wait to hear what you think of my work… 

----------------On to the Story--------------

Darkness. He had always thought that is was ironic that the gateway between the magickal world and the muggle world was through darkness. It should have been disconcerting, but it was just the opposite. It was comfort. In the darkness, denied vision, everything else became magnified. The sound of his hurried footsteps, the metallic clang of the trolley wheels on the floor all seemed to be raised to a deafening pitch; and yet it wasn't disturbing. The scent of brick and age, dust and the lingering traces of leather and metal in the air surrounded him, giving him strength and security.

Then there was the feel of it all.

The time it took to pass through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 and into the magickal world where the Hogwarts Express waited at platform 9 ¾ was a space of only five seconds, but in those few seconds he could feel everything. The air around him seemed to become alive with a warmth that increased as he approached the end of the darkness, a welcome that could only be described as the joy of having come home again. But the best part, the best part, was the sensation that came within the last second or two of darkness; it was then that he could feel the magick. It grew and he could feel it, a heartbeat, a pulse that began soft, filling him as it increased in tone and complexity until it became a symphony humming through his mind and over his skin.

It was then, at that moment, when the symphony was at its peak and the sounds and smells threatened to consume him, that the light burst through the darkness, like the sun after a storm.

It was then that he knew he was home.

And with that wonderful feeling of coming home, with the warmth of magick that wrapped around him, Harry Potter pushed through the barrier, onto platform 9 ¾, and into the bustle that was the magickal world.

------------

"Oi, Harry, come on!"

Green eyes turned slowly toward the voice, lost in a thoughtful haze behind the bright glint of glasses and the straying wisps of shaggy black hair. Their color was intense, a pure and vibrant emerald that seemed to go on forever, as if the world itself was locked within that gaze. It was piercing and forceful and although the eyes stared straight at the voice's owner it was as if they weren't actually _seeing _anything. Or perhaps they were seeing _everything_…

Ron stood still beneath the intensity of the gaze, uncertainty written in his own eyes. Paralyzed by eyes that were at once both familiar and distant, in a face that he had seen go through over five years worth of emotions and changes, but which was now void. Hesitant and feeble, his voice tremble slightly as he ventured to speak. "Harry, you alright?"

Slowly comprehension dawned in the green eyes and they smiled, familiar warmth spreading over his face like a wildfire until the haunting expression was but a memory. "I'm fine, Ron," answered Harry, "Never better, but you look terrible. You sure you're okay?" The moment of thought was forgotten and Harry glanced at the clock overhead his eyes widening. Without waiting for Ron's reply he steered his trolley toward Ron and the Hogwarts Express, calling over his shoulder as he passed his friend, "Come on, Ron! We're going to be late."

Ron watched with curiosity as Harry passed by. _What had that look been for? _Had Harry even heard him the first time? He _had_ turned toward him so he must have… Maybe he hadn't understood. He could have been daydreaming, that had been happening a lot lately.

Ron knew that Harry had a deep love and wonder of the magickal world. Who wouldn't after having pent most of his life in the Muggle world., and with his horrible relatives? Ron couldn't even comprehend how it must feel for Harry to have been thrust into a new world, a world where everything was so different, so much better, as Harry put it, and where he was no longer an insignificant embarrassment, but idolized icon. That experience and background along with Harry's unusual sensitivity to magick could be why he often spaced out.

Ron grinned and turned his out cart, a little over 5 years wasn't enough to have completely solved the mystery that was Harry James Potter. Every time he thought he had him figured out another locked door or hidden depth seemed to jump out at him. Wheeling his own trolley after his friend he followed after Harry, the look in his friend's eyes still haunting him. It just hadn't seemed like wonder or daydreams this time, there had been something more in those green depths. It was deeper, as though Ron had been looking into eyes that were much older than his. Harry had seen more in his life than Ron had any hope or wish to see. Sometimes when he looked at Harry, caught him unawares, staring into the fireplace, the sky or just out into space, it was like it wasn't Harry.

That was how it had been this time. It hadn't been Harry that had turned to him, but at the same time it was. It was more 'Harry' than anything else he had ever seen in his friend…

Shaking his head Ron grinned as he and Harry caught up with Hermione and loaded onto the train. Stowing their trunks and belongings in a back compartment, Ron sat down his grin widening, amused at himself.

Since when had he become a philosopher? And over Harry's eyes, too!!

Laughing at himself, he struggled to hold the laughter back, trying to keep his face neutral as he smiled across the compartment at Harry and Hermione.

---

While Ron had been _philosophizing _over Harry's eyes, Harry had been musing over another pair of eyes. Warm brown eyes, tinged with gold that sparkled under an uneven mop of sandy colored hair. It wasn't unruly, or haggard as Harry's tended to be, but it was in a constant state of disorder. 

Now that he thought about it, it was a rather appealing combination…

A sharp whistle sounded, jolting him from his thoughts as the train began to move and that moment of confusion he didn't notice the image in his mind haze in shape and color before it faded; sandy hair shimmering to silvery blonde, warm brown eyes icing over into a cool gray, and strong boyish features sharpening into delicate angles.

Who could blame him for not noticing… 

He was on his way home….

---

"I have to read it some time, Ron, and so do you!" Hermione's voice broke through into Harry's consciousness.

"Ugh! Do you have to remind me, 'Mione?", Ron replied, disgusted.

Hermione shot a disapproving look over at Ron, who sighed and sagged back against the cushion of his seat.

"I know I'll have to read it, but do you have to read it _now_?!"

Settling into the comfort of their voices, Harry glanced sideways at the open book in Hermione's lap: **'Distillation of Death by Draughts'**. She was only on Ch. 5. Harry chuckled to himself and let himself wonder briefly what his friends would say if he told them that he was already on Ch. 15. It was tempting for a moment, if only to seen the look on Ron's face.

Thinking of the book, his mind switched back to its previous subject and he glanced down at his wrist watch.

11:15

__

'Is it too early?'

Sudden anxiety filled him as all of his doubts and scenarios came back to plague him.

Was he sure he wanted this?

He could just sit here with Ron and Hermione, ignore the whole thing, and if it didn't kill the subject, he could use them as an excuse.

__

'Excuse?!'

Since when did he hide behind his friends when something unsettling came up? He had faced the Dark Lord on more than one occasion. Why did confronting a boy his own age seem so much more terrifying?

Because… because he wasn't just confronting someone else, he was confronting himself, confronting his nature and, if unsure, could damage the opinions of those who mattered most in his life. It wasn't just the Wizarding World's views that he was worried about, he could really care less what they thought, but those of the people close to him, those he called friends and family were utmost in his mind.

Dumbledore, Sirius, Ron, 'Mione, the Weasleys, Remus, even his parents…

What would they say if they learned about his sexual preference? What would they think of Harry Potter now? The Boy-Who-Live, a homosexual?

Fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes he glance back down at his watch then towards the door and back down at his watch. He would have to think up an excuse. Ron and Hermione couldn't suspect anything until he was prepared for their reactions. All he had to do was act normal…

He had already failed…

Never breaking stride in her argument with Ron, they were second nature now and she could return fire without actually paying attention to the argument, Hermione watched Harry out of the corner of her eye. Something softened in them and she suppressed the urge to take his hand and comfort him.

__

'Oh, Harry,' she thought sadly, _'why wont you just ask? Do you not trust us enough for that?' _It hurt to think that. _'We are going to have to have a talk later, but for now go. Go on. Go see him…' _

She couldn't help but grin at his uncertainty, and couldn't help but feel sad…

__

'Two hearts will be broken after today…'

Upset with his steady loss in the argument, Ron turned away towards the window and promptly buried his own head in a book of the latest quidditch moves. Harry had bought it for him last Christmas.

Hermione relaxed back into her seat, back to reading her book, with a smug, self-satisfied smile plastered on her face.

It was now or never…

Standing up, Harry dug into his pocket, tossing a mix of coinage to Ron. "In case the trolley witch comes by while I'm gone."

"Where you going, Harry?" Ron asked, more out of habit than anything, his attention focused on a picture of a keeper demonstrating a Double Eight Loop followed up by a complex execution of Starfish and Stick maneuver.

"I promised to go meet someone," Harry offered in what he hoped was an off-handed tone, "I loaned them a book last year."

"Mmm."

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron and turned to Hermione. "Be back in a little while." Leaning forward he added softly, "Make sure that he leaves me some Chocolate Frogs." Sharing a quick, smile with Hermione, he walked out into the aisle and headed toward the rear of the train.

Hermione could only shake her head before engrossing herself into the proper method of chopping Dragon's Blood roots.

----

It was raining now, had been since they had left the shelter of King's Cross, and probably would be for the rest of the train ride. It was only about fifteen minutes into the journey, but they had been fifteen glorious minutes of silence and peace. Nothing but the rain and lightning, the sounds of the train, and the endless wanderings of thought existed for those few precious moments. 

They were more precious to him than the fine clothes or hefty sack of galleons that Draco Malfoy carried with him. To him they were a miracle. No Crabbe. No Goyle. No pretenses. And, best of all, no Pansy Parkinson.

Draco shuddered as he remembered the drive up to King's Cross with her. Merlin forbid that the girl make use of the spacey backseat of the limo. Well, in truth, she _wanted _to make _use _of the backseat and the long ride from Malfoy Manor, but not in a way that appealed to me. It took half the trip to convince her that he found her offer less than flattering, and even after that she insisted on draping herself over him for the entire last half of the trip. He spent that eternity of Hell fighting off her wondering hands while trying to maintain his mask of normalcy.

__

'It makes me sick to think that a year ago I let her paw at me like that. Eugh! I had hoped that my change in appearance might have put her off a little.' Looking at his reflection in the window glass he frowns.

Silver blonde hair carelessly frames an angular heart-shaped face, falling to his shoulders. Solemn gray eyes watch as a pale delicate hand pulls back a section of hair to catch the echoing metallic wink of a single, silver hoop from his right ear. Even he had to admit that, far from making him look unkempt, the look gave him a look of effortless and casual sexuality. 

The earring had been a bit daring, and on the right ear to boot, but it only added to the look. It was the closest he had come to declaring his sexuality, not that he would admit that he was gay. To anyone who asked, he just preferred his right ear to his left. Homosexuality wasn't looked on kindly by the old, pureblood wizarding families as it was by the rest of the magickal community. Not that it didn't happen mind you, behind closed doors and with discretion. 

Fingering the silver hoop, he let himself review his choice. It was dangerous to have taken the step, but it was a luxury that he had allowed himself. Pansy had made a few rather tasteless remarks about Draco's choice of accessory in conjunction with a few names. Seamus Finnigan, Justin Finch-Fletchy, and the Weasley Twins had returned to school last year sporting their own declarations and their names had come up many times in various situations with his own. It was a relief when Pansy finally let up. She had a knack for knowing when she reached the end of his good graces and had backed down, saying that it was only a joke. 

It was a common wizard custom to pierce one of your ears the day that you decided your sexuality, Draco had pierced his left during his second year and wore it just long enough for his house to see his choice before he removed it and magickally closed the hole; back then he had felt that it marred his appearance. 

Letting his hand drop to his lap, he looked the empty compartment, focusing on nothing solid.

As far as he knew Potter had yet to pierce his ear. The dunce probably didn't even know about the custom. He often wondered how he had managed to fall for someone so completely clueless. Weasley probably hadn't even clued him in, even though Ron had pierced his ear during fourth year after the Yule Ball. Which left him wondering if it had occurred to Granger that Potter might need that information. Witches had a different way of claiming their sexuality; they wore a silver ring on their pinky with opal stone bewitched into a complex spiral if they preferred their own sex. Needless to say, Granger didn't sport such a ring.

The fact that Harry wasn't pierced yet, was a source of both anxiety and hope.

Leaning back against the seat he absently rubbed at the back of his neck, working out the kinks that hadn't left him from his last training session. At least the lash marks from his father had faded and no longer hurt. 

Draco barely managed to suppress a snarl at the thought of his father, but he failed as his fingers grazed over the cool metal of his necklace. Pale fingers tightened on the delicate links and drew the necklace out from under his robes, silver and gold coils wink at him as the peridot and topaz taunt him from the ring dangling on the necklace.

There was no escaping the damn ring this year. Pansy had insisted on him at least wearing it on a necklace. 

__

'It wont be in any danger this way' she had argued, her body turned toward Draco's, her leg lying unabashedly between his own while her fingers toyed with the ring and necklace she had just collared Draco with_, 'You can tuck it beneath your cloak and it will be perfectly safe.'_ Fluttering her eyelashes, she had let her fingers skim down Draco's torso. _'I want to know that its _always _near you… and this way it's close to your _heart._'_

He hadn't been able to battle against that reasoning and her proximity had him wanting to pacify her as quickly as possible and lengthen the distance between them. If he refused to wear it then she would become suspicious; especially with his earring. So he wore the collar and let her think that she held the leash.

Tucking the necklace back beneath his cloak he turned back to the window, watching the rain streak down the window's surface, the occasional lightning transforming the rivers into veins of pure silver.

Closing his eyes he sighed.

"Damn the prophesy… and damn you Potter…" 

And because he was alone he let himself have one more luxury.

"Damn you Harry…"

---

"Anyone in here?"

The question caught Draco off guard and gray eyes flashed silver as they shot open to meet familiar green in the lightning slashed window.

It was a reflection, but still…

Both boys froze, their eyes locked on each other through the glasses reflection, but only Draco noticed that all sound had faded under the crashing roll of thunder and the throbbing beat of his own pulse. Draco could feel the power build between them and he briefly wondered if Harry even noticed it.

__

'He can't be that dense right?'

The flicker of silver and blue caught his attention and he closed his eyes before Harry could notice.

__

'Not now…'

It hurt to push the power away… it always hurt to deny yourself. Especially when part of himself was staring at him from the doorway.

Turning he opened his eyes when he was certain that he had himself under control and almost had to close his eyes again as the full force of warm emerald green left him breathless. 

The reflection had been nothing compared to this

---

Harry watched with shock and curiosity as the Slytherin quickly pulled himself together. The pale figure look away from him quickly, readjusting in the seat, sitting up straight and putting his robes right but refusing to meet his eyes again.

"Uh… sorry", Harry offered as his hand buried itself deep in his pocket, wrapping around the letter there. They had both been caught off guard. Harry wasn't expecting anyone to be here, was half hoping there wouldn't be anyone here yet, least of all Malfoy. Didn't Malfoy usually sit up further along the train with his harem of loyal subjects and admirers? What was he doing in the back of the train? And alone?

"Sorry, Potter?" Malfoy managed to find his voice, thanking Merlin that the breathlessness made it sound scathing. Running a hand through his hair he fought to balance himself. 

"Um, yeah." Harry fished for an excuse. "I didn't think anyone was in here. I didn't mean to intrude." That was exactly how he felt; that he had intruded on a private moment that Malfoy hadn't wanted anyone to see. He had never seen Malfoy that relaxed and unguarded before. "What are you doing back here? Don't you usually sit with all your … uh…", _'minions?' _ ,"friends?"

"Friends?" the word stretched between them as Draco stared straight ahead. _'Friends might be nice if I had them. You can't exactly call my housemates my friends.' _"I like being alone…"

"I can imagine. Especially with the company you keep." Harry added, treading the line between conversation and confrontation carefully. "How _do _you maintain a conversation with Crabbe and Goyle? Learn to speak troll?"

__

'Close, Potter, very close", Draco fought off the beginnings of a smile. "You'd be surprised. Suffice it to say that I prefer solitude."

Grinning Harry leaned against the doorframe. "To think that one day I would discover the Prince of Slytherin dodging the company of his subjects…" 

Suddenly Harry's smile faded and his words died on his lips. Brilliant silver flashed, lightning tearing through the darkness behind them, and for a moment Harry felt the stirrings of real fear from his archrival. 

"Lets get one thing straightened away right _now_!" Draco ground out. "Whatever may have held truth in the past, I am not _now _nor will I _ever _be the _'Prince of Slytherin'_… Are we clear, _Golden Boy_?"

Shocked faded away to curious irritation. "Transparently; however, if I drop your 'title' you drop _mine_, Malfoy."

"So, Potter, what brings you to my lovely little part of the world? Illicit rendezvous?" Draco questioned a little more harshly than he had intended.

Harry started for a moment, his mouth working silently, trying to find an defense. _'He's just joking. No one knows about the meeting but us.' _Harry reasoned as he caught himself looking back down the aisle, lingering on the doors of other compartments. _'Don't be paranoid, you'll give yourself away.'_

Harry had never been very good at hiding his more intense emotions.

"You're looking rather guilty, Gryffindor."

"No… no… it's not that."

"Digging yourself deeper."

"It's _nothing _like that!" Harry was starting to get nervous.

"You're nervous." Draco stated coolly, even as prayed he was wrong. "That's an awful lot of denial for nothing." Draco arched a delicate eyebrow as his mind screamed that it wasn't true. "So who is it, I wonder."

Harry stared at Draco, no longer denying the truth, but there was a certain amount of comfort in the fact that the Slytherin couldn't possibly know who it was he was meeting.

__

'Damn it, Harry! You can't!' 

"They must be very lucky to have captured the interest of the-boy-who-lived." Draco leaned back into the wall, turning his body and lifting his legs so that he took up the entire seat. It was hard not to drift back into habit when jealously and despair were eating away inside you and Draco never even noticed when he lost control of the conversations intensity.

"I thought we had dropped titles, Ferret." Harry returned.

Draco went on as if he hadn't heard the raven haired boy. "Who could it be? The Weasley girl perhaps?… No." Draco added quickly. "No need to be sneaky there. Besides she doesn't seem your type. Too obsessive and, if you don't mind me saying so, simple to have ensnared your heart."

"Leave her out of this. You don't even know her." Harry defended, even as part of him was hiding in shame. Hadn't he thought that once? Twice? Okay… it was a constant thought! She was nice and was growing up to be a fine looking girl, but she _was _rather suffocating and not a little annoying at times. She was more of a sister in Harry's mind and he felt bad that he couldn't give her more. He just couldn't… it wasn't in him.

"Very well, Potter. It couldn't be her anyway. Could be Granger, but…" 

Something sparkled in Draco's eyes and made Harry shiver. _'Oh, God no…'_

Draco gave in to the hurt. He felt reckless. He had been hurt and wanted to lash out in return. Suddenly a thought struck him and he watched Harry shudder.

__

Why not get an answer, end part of my torture, and _score a point on the Gryffindor_?

"Perhaps…" Draco's voice chilled the air, confident and deceptively conversational. "Perhaps it isn't a girl at all that has caught our savior's attention."

Harry couldn't feel his legs and the color drained from his face before he could recover himself.

Draco had his answer.

Part of the Slytherin wanted to strangle the gaping Gryffindor, tear out his heart and throw it down beside his own that lay on the floor, still and cold in its own blood. Another part, screamed to dance and jump for joy. It wasn't completely hopeless to wish for the Gryffindor's attention. Draco sat stunned in his seat, his face a mask of calm arrogance.

"Is that it, Potter? Find yourself a boyfriend?"

Harry met Draco's stare force for force, mask for mask, his face completely empty of any emotion. He would not let Malfoy have the satisfaction of seeing him stumble over his words.

"If you really must know, Malfoy…" Harry began, his words calm and cutting.

Draco couldn't help but sit up straighter against the wall at the biting tone, but his curiosity had him leaning marginally forward. So much was riding on Harry's words.

Harry steeled himself, he wouldn't be boxed in by Malfoy.

"Hiya, Harry! Sorry I'm late. It took a while to ditch Neville, Ginny, and Dean."

Whatever steel Harry had managed to build melted as the Irish laden voice rang from down the train aisle and he felt the calm and cool mask he had structure begin to heat at the edges when the comfortable weight of a hand fell on his shoulder.

__

God, what timing!

"Been waiting long?"

It was something in the warmth of the brown eyes that had Harry relaxing again, it was the affection and friendship in the smile that made Harry's lips curve up in response, and it was the stability of the hand on his shoulder that made Harry want to lean into it.

Draco hadn't moved. He sat there, still from shock, as he watched the exchange. It was true! He had never wanted to be more wrong in his entire life than he did right then. Draco grimaced as Harry smiled at the lanky youth, he could feel his stomach tighten and twist as the pain washed over him. Sitting back against the wall of the compartment he felt his face drain of emotion and thought.

"Finnigan," Draco ground out, his voice caught somewhere between shock and anger.

Focusing in on the voice, Seamus' eyes hardened as they turned towards it, and Draco watched as the Irish boy's hand moved over to Harry's other shoulder. Possession. Draco recognized the unconscious gesture instantly. What normally would have been a friendly and supportive embrace took on an intimacy that had Draco's jaw and gut clenching.

The lanky Irish git had his arm around Harry, _his_ Harry.

Meeting the hard brown eyes with the cold steel of his own, he almost smirked as he watched them flicker toward the silver dangling from his ear. He could have laughed at the curiosity and astonishment that registered in the other boy's face if the situation had been less intense… less personal. The Irish youth's mask fell back into place quickly, but there was an uncertainty in his eyes and Draco watched as Seamus' hand tightened its hold on Harry's shoulder.

He wasn't the only one who noticed and Harry cast a sideways glance at the boy next to him. He had never felt so completely out of the loop. He was lost and Seamus wasn't being any help at all. Now Malfoy had enough pieces to finish the puzzle, if he hadn't already. Draco might be many things but stupid wasn't part of his personality. Harry mentally smiled, that was why Draco made such a perfect match… er… rival, he corrected, for himself.

Seamus stood there, completely clueless as Harry struggled with what was taking place. He was resizing the boy before him. That simple accessory had taken everything into a completely different and possibly dangerous perspective. He could no longer be sure of Draco's character, there was never really much thought that needed to be wasted on the Slytherin; he _was_ _Slytherin_ after all, add that to his being a Malfoy, and a major prick. It was easy enough to put two and two together and get four, wasn't it? But now, now he just wasn't sure and that was what was bothering him. He had to know. "Nice earring, Malfoy." He cocked his eyebrow, watching for the other boy's reaction. "Making a statement?"

Draco didn't even bat an eye, his face remained emotionless and calm. In truth he was having a hard time not smirking outright. There was uncertainty and… fear lacing the Irish boy's words and Draco knew why. Pity he couldn't cause the Gryffindor more agony, but he had an image to uphold and a role to play. "Nothing like yours I'm afraid", he answered with regret at being cheated out of this perfect moment by necessity. It had taken effort to overcome his disappointment and place the necessary disdain in the phase. "Don't worry, Finnigan, you'll get no competition from me." He let his lips curve as he added, "I'm not that desperate yet."

"That's a matter of opinion, Malfoy," Seamus spat back. He was caught somewhere between relief and disappointment; Malfoy would have made both an interesting distraction and a very dangerous liability… '_especially if'_… He cast a glance at Harry before shaking his head. '_No way.'_

__

'Not as stupid as you pretend, are you, Finnigan?', Draco mused as he watched the look Finnigan passed over Harry. "You're right about that, Finnigan." His words had a dual meaning, but he doubted the Irish boy could pick up on it. "Luckily the only opinion about me that matters is mine." 

"Then you're right, it is lucky, because no one else's opinion is quite as high as your own." 

"True, Finnigan." Draco answered easily as a grin curved his lips. "But then again… few of you set standards equal to my own. You lack the vision."

Seamus' face began to heat. The Slytherin wasn't reacting, he just sat there, cool and collected returning fire after every attack, and his aim was much better.

Harry began to step forward, but halted at the sound of laughter coming from behind them. Turning he watch as Pansy Parkinson, flounced into the compartment and straight toward Draco. Harry didn't even register the moment his fist clenched, but neither did anyone else, as the pug-faced girl walked easily into the blonde's presence.

"Why do you even waste you're words on these Gryffindor's?" she asked, as she ran her gaze over Draco's outstretched form. "They don't have the ability to understand. They are unequal to you and, as you clearly stated, they lack vision." She smiled, fluttering her lashes in what she considered a seductive manner, as she unabashedly moved to sit in his lap. "I, on the other hand, well… let's just say I have excellent _vision_."

Draco barely managed to hold back the full body shiver that wanted to tear through his body as the Slytherin girl draped herself over him. Flexing his hands, he kept them impassively at his side as she positioned herself in his lap. If he let them, his hands would have torn her forcefully from him, or, if he was lucky, they would have strangled her. Instead, he sat still and endured the torment as her arms encircled and clung to his neck, threatening to suffocate under the overwhelming scent of her gaudy and, no doubt, expensive perfume.

If the Christian belief of Hell was indeed real, he had just crossed over into it. He was damned, that was for sure. Cursed from the moment of conception, now lashed to damnation by his father's gift which stood out, branded upon his very skin in its blackness, eating away at what remained of his soul. Add to that lovely knowledge the fact that across from him stood Harry Potter, savior of the fucking world, the boy-who-fucking-lived; his own archrival of more than five years and the deepest burning pain and passion of his life, and you ended up with a form of mental torture that even Lucius could have found pleasure in executing. Of that Draco was sure of. Nothing pleased Lucius more than causing mental anguish; the more twisted and intricate, the better.

Potter stood there, watching him with no clue as to the direction of Draco's thoughts, no knowledge of what he was going through, what he felt. He stood there with his future, if not current, lover beside him, while Draco sat there strangling beneath the pressure of fate and a predestined bitch of a fiancée, her necklace hanging from his throat like a well made leash. And the best part being that he couldn't find a single way to rid himself of even a fraction of the torment. The Dark Mark was there to stay, permanently as even his power couldn't remove the brand he had willingly accepted, it was a bond, an unwanted one, but a bond none the less and he was bound to it till death. Even if he could remove it, it would be impossible to do so without attracting unwanted notice and his plans would be in serious jeopardy. Plans made for the sake of the man who stood across from him, a man who was as much a part of his torment as the mark and every bit as difficult to rid himself of. Goddess only knew how he had tried to rid himself of the enigma that was Harry Potter, the past few years of his life had been practically dedicated to that one goal. What a waste. Then, he realized, just as now, he would rather suffer than actually rid his life of Potter, he hadn't realized how much Potter had mattered to him back then, he was the one bright star in the darkness that had consumed him. The signs had been there all along, Potter was the only one that had ever mattered enough to rile him, the only one who's presence was expected, almost awaited each day. Draco had simply taken what had been there and since their initial meeting their first year, had focused and convinced himself that it was simple competition and hatred. He wished that that was all it actually was because the truth was so much more complex. The twitch of a finger against his neck had him slamming back into reality and remember one of his most tiresome pains: Pansy Parkinson. He couldn't remove Pansy for the same reason as he wouldn't remove the Dark Mark if he could, because if he did, if he deviated from the role of true if distant fiancée she would suspect his plans. He wouldn't, he couldn't, let that happen.

"Parkinson…", he managed to force out with only a hint of disdain. 

Her laughter was sickening as it fell from her lips. "Dray…", she purred against his neck, "don't you think that it's about time to drop my last name between us? After all, it wont be mine much longer you know."

As if he needed reminding of their future relationship, she wiggled further into his lap, pressing against him. It was too much and this time he couldn't hold off the disgusted shudder that resulted from her actions. I man could only take so much, he reasoned as he waited for her reaction.

Pansy, far from being insulted, took the reaction for encouragement, and nipped at his ear. Giggling she whispered, "Excellent vision…". 

Draco recognized the tone from the times before when she had tried to persuade him to her bed. It had only succeeded once and he had been under the influence of the Fire Whiskey, Crabbe and Goyle had snuck into the Slytherin Common Room. He was still having a problem swallowing how he had let himself get into that position that particular night. It had dawned on him a few days ago that that had been the day he had seen Harry and Cho in each other's arms after the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game, he had always told himself that it was because of their drastic loss that day. Who had he been kidding?

"How can you talk of vision, _Parkinson_," Draco answered, emphasizing her last name in his emotionless tone, "when you can't even tell the simple difference between myself and the seat?"

Harry barely managed to stifle the grin that wanted to curve his lips. He and Seamus had been standing there, watching the interplay between the two before them, Seamus with an amused and pleased look on his face at the Slytherin male's dilemma and Harry with a mask of pure unconcern. Until Draco's comment, his fists had been so tight that Harry's generally stubby nails were biting into his palms.

Pansy sniffed, but chose to ignore the comment, turning her attention to the other occupants of the compartment in a effort to side herself with Draco. "You two still here? I figured even you weren't dense enough to not recognize when your presence is unwanted."

Draco stiffened. _'Apparently, they aren't the only ones, Parkinson.'_

Harry looked to Draco for a moment, but the Slytherin was refusing to meet his eyes. Seamus, on the other hand, wasn't taking the statement as well as Harry was and took a step toward the Slytherin couple. Quickly Harry turned, bracing his hand on Seamus' arm, "Come on, Seamus, let's go."

Seamus stared down at Harry incredulously. How could he remain so calm?

Draco was equally surprised. Harry never backed down against him, let alone Parkinson. He was acting almost _demure._ Thinking back over their encounters he caught a pattern of behavior that had changed. Harry fought back… but only when his friends weren't in the immediate vicinity. At the ice-cream parlor Harry had remained silent, except for one harsh vocalization, then when he joined the Gryffindor's group it had been less apparent as whatever control he had built up began eroding with Draco's continued presence. The only times he had let himself have the satisfactory arguments had been when he had chased after Draco, his friends a safe distance away, and when they had been in the compartment alone. What had happened to cause such a transition? It hadn't been there on the last day of school or the train ride home last year.

Silently, and with seeming indifference, the Slytherin watched as Harry soothed Seamus, and inch by inch, directed the Irishman out of the compartment. Damn indifference!!! The sight before him was grating on his very nerves!!

Exasperation overtook him as Harry finally managed to exit the compartment. He could feel the headache coming on as he lifted a hand and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Parkinson, _dear,_" he added the endearment as an appeasement of sorts, the day couldn't get any worse than it already had and his hardest obstacle was still to come. "It isn't that I don't enjoy your affection, but my legs are going numb, I have yet to change into my robes, _and _we have to make an appearance in the Prefect's Compartment before we arrive at Hogwarts."

And Merlin, wasn't that going to be fun? Spending time with Granger and Weasel?

But even that seemed like heaven when compared to his situation at the moment and for the first moment he was grateful for that unpleasant obligation as he felt Pansy's weight slither from him. Looking up, he watched her stand and compose herself. She had let her hands trail over him in what he assumed was a caress designed to let him know she wasn't so mad at him, and also a kind of female attempt at revenge… show him a trace of what _pleasure _he had passed up for an hour or more of dull company and conversation. There was a pout on her lips, but an invitation in her eye that threw off any impression actual hurt. The appeasement had worked like a charm.

Women were so easy, he mused as he watched her leave the compartment with a toss of hair and a sway of hips. Shaking his head he dutifully stood up and began getting dressed, at least during the meeting he would have a foolproof excuse to not pay attention. He had some thinking to do before they arrived at Hogwarts. Steps had to be taken…

Running a hand through his hair, "And one is about to be taken," he said to himself as he stepped out into the aisle and made his way toward the front of the train.

__

One had to be taken…

---

Harry smiled when he finally managed to drag Seamus out into the aisle. The compartment across the way was clear and Harry directed Seamus toward that one, pausing a moment to cast a glance back at Malfoy. He looked defeated, leaning against the wall with the pug faced girl clinging to him like a second skin. Thinking over the last image of the Slytherin he smiled and shook his head… it hadn't been defeat in the storm colored eyes but resignation, at least for the time being, and a desperate waiting. Having been his rival for the past 5 years, he knew Malfoy and Malfoy could be put out, insulted, angered, and shocked into silence, but he was _never_ defeated.

The moment Harry stepped into the compartment all thoughts drained away with his smile as Seamus pounced on him, his voice raised several levels. 

"What was that all about, Harry?! You just _stood _there and let that bitch bash you _and _your _entire_ house!!!"

Harry sighed and let himself fall onto one of the cushioned seats as the accusations and confusion rolled from Seamus.

"What's wrong, Harry? You never let them get away with that before. Why now?" Angered more that Harry simply sat there, unmoving, practically unconcerned, and completely refusing to answer his questions Seamus let his control go, "Did you loose both your pride and your backbone over the summer?" The moment the question was out the Irish boy regretted it.

He regretted it even more when Harry's eyes met his. Fire flashed within the emerald depths, brilliant and piercing, and had cold fingers of fear and awe dancing in Seamus's gut.

"Don't…"

The voice was soft and deceivingly normal, but there was steel and fire running through the words and the look that Harry gave him had Seamus taking a step back.

Harry sat there, still and unmoving, but inside he was shaking with anger. He'd dealt with so much in the past months, never mind the pain he'd experienced his entire life. "You've no right to ask and accuse me of that. No right to ask me those questions. I am under no obligation to explain my life and my choices to you." He watched his friend, a friend he was considering a deeper relationship with, watched the fear and regret pass through those eyes, and closed his own and turned away.

"I'm sor-", Harry began.

"No." Seamus' voice cut in quickly. "No, Harry, don't." A slight smile curved the Irish boy's lips as he kneeled down in front of the boy he had asked to meet him here. "You know, you apologize way too much… and in cases where it isn't you who should apologize." The smile faltered and Seamus dared to place his hand over Harry's. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Harry. I jumped down your throat without any provocation other than hurt pride. I was mad, but not at you, and I'm sorry I took it out on you." 

Yeah, he had been upset… still was in some way. He couldn't shake off the idea of Draco and what his earring could mean. He wasn't a fool; he knew how many different forms attraction took, but even allowing that there was no reason for his reaction. He had wanted Harry to take on the bitch with him, fall into the old rivalry and in a sense cement their new bond with some traditional Slytherin-bashing. 

Harry smiled, but that didn't stop him from casting a look over at the door to make sure no one was outside. Then, only then, did he turn his hand over and wrap his fingers around Seamus'. He had decided to take a chance. He couldn't go on as he had been, pretending that his attraction to guys didn't exist. Pretending that his gaze was admiring the female forms rather than focusing on the angular curves and dips of the male students that passed him in the hall. It wasn't working and he didn't need the stress of that pretense added to the stress he was already feeling with the rising dark. 

'_One step at a time…_', he told himself as he looked at Seamus.

He would accept Seamus, take a chance on the deepening of the relationship and see where that headed, but in secret. He still need time to adjust, time to find himself in this new path he was choosing. If Seamus couldn't accept that then… well, they'd been friends before and would be friends still.

"You know with you kneeling and the fact that I came here for you to ask me a question, I'm not feeling too secure with its nature." Harry smiled warmly, the cold and fire in his eyes completely gone as he watched comprehension dawn in the deep brown eyes before him. As Seamus coughed and stood up, Harry had to force himself not to laugh at the red tint the other's face had turned.

"Yeah, well…", Seamus fought for the sentence he was looking for. "Sorry to disappoint you, Harry, but I'm not going to ask you to marry me."

"Pity…", he sighed, feigning mock sadness, "and here I was picking out the china patterns, drapes and considering possible names for our adopted children." Harry grinned, the old humor flaring within his eyes before a mixed sense of uncertainty and resolution took there place. "But I think you have the right idea…", he glanced down at the hand that still held his, "we need to take this slow, step-by-step. This is… uh…", he faltered, and silently cursed himself for the lack of eloquent speech. "This is new to me."

Hope filled Seamus and he watched Harry silently, a spark kindling in his eyes as his hand tightened around Harry's, but his lips had taken on the haughty curve that had helped make him one of the sex symbols of the Gryffindor House. The disappointment and shock on the girl population of Hogwarts the day he, the Weasley Twins, and Justin had shown up the previous year with their declarations, was one Seamus would treasure forever. "I understand, Harry… I do." He remembered the way Harry had stepped back in fear from the kiss he had forced on him that night; the uncertainty and shock in his eyes had haunted Seamus the entire summer and the brief feeling of hope was intensified into desperation as he sat there with Harry. "Does that mean…?" He left the question dangling in the air, searching Harry's face for an answer.

Harry kept his face masked. The pressure on his hand had unconsciously brought back the doubts that had plagued him since that night in the Astronomy Tower and uncertainty settled over him again. His surety was gone… the answer he had been so willing to give refused to leave his throat, threatening to strangle him. Closing his eyes, Harry focused and calmed; he could feel the warmth from the hand that held his, he had seen only earnestness in the brown eyes of his friend, everything seemed well enough, but there was a warning flashing in his mind…. A hand holding him back. "Time…", he whispered as he opened his eyes and met Seamus', "give me a few more hours to think on this."

There was pleading in his eyes as he looked at Seamus and Seamus saw it. "Harry…". something softened in Seamus' face and Harry's eyes widened as Seamus' hand lifted to his face, brushing fingers through his hair before caressing his cheek. "Take all the time you need…", there was honesty behind the words and that only added to the impact as the Irishman continued, "Anyone who can't wait a few hours when it means that they might hold you in their arms after those hours isn't worth the tissue the Dark Lord wipes his arse with."

The breath that Harry had held let out in a rush that was part gasp, part laugh. "God, you're such a romantic charmer. I've never heard a more beautiful declaration. Is that what you say to all the boys?" Meeting Seamus' eyes, they shared a secret smile. "Thanks," Harry murmured. "You'll know by the end of the feast, I promise."

"No hurry, Harry."

"By the end of the feast."

There was surety in those words, both a promise to Seamus and a declaration of decision to Harry himself. Seamus deserved an answer, and Harry needed the resolution.

Seamus looked at Harry, his brows were furrowed under the strands of shaggy black hair as if in argument with himself. Harry was often found with that expression on his face, it had been a common occurrence last year, but now the expression was deeper… darker in a sense. Smiling, Seamus gave in, "Alright."

Silence fell on the compartment, an almost tangible force weighting the air between them. Harry broke the silence first.

"I better be getting back to Ron and Hermione. They said they would cut the Prefect meeting short and I need to make use of the time so I can give you my answer." The sentences hadn't come out quite like Harry had hoped and he stood up uncertainly, turning toward the door, but something held him back. Turning around, Harry stared into laughing brown eyes. Seamus had stood up with him, their hands still joining. A smile began to creep along his lips until Seamus took a step forward something brightening in the earthy depths.

Seamus knew that this moment might cost him a closer relationship with Harry, but if Harry said no, he wanted one last memory of the boy before him. Easily he reached his free hand out, letting it caress lightly through rich ebony hair, his eyes following the movement as his fingers lingering over the curve of Harry's ear, down the firm jaw line, following the curve downward to cup the back of his neck. He could feel the pulse jump and he looked up, catching the unconscious movement of Harry's tongue as it flicked out to wet his lips. That actions calmed Seamus' fears and he took another step forward, all his instincts were pushing for the pressure of Harry's lips against his own. Tilting his head forward, he almost sighed at the warmth that curved against his lips as his met Harry's.

Seamus wasn't one to ignore his instincts.

Harry drifted in that space of time that seemed to draw out as Seamus stepped closer, trailing his fingers in smooth patterns over his skin, and stepped forward again. Then there was the eternity that Harry endured before he felt the contact of Seamus' lips against his own. He didn't respond, but neither did he retreat. He accepted, gliding along the feelings that were coursing from the warm flesh of the other boy. His brief snatches of tenderness with Cho hadn't given him this feeling and this was just a simple press of lips, nothing intricate, nothing deeper…

Something inside him sighed and relaxed, giving in to the inevitable truth: he, Harry James Potter, was attracted to men… he was gay.

Seamus lets his lips slide against Harry's, not daring anything more than the simple play of skin against skin. Lingering a few more moments, he enjoyed the slight taste that was Harry Potter, it was intoxicating, exotic, and at the same time, hilariously common; it was the unconventional blend of strawberries and pumpkin juice. It was perfect.

He stepped back because he knew if he didn't he would push before Harry was ready. Grinning playfully he leaned back on his heels, jamming his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out and forgetting about control. "I seem to have a loss of control around you, Harry," he commented easily, meeting Harry's eyes. "Should I apologize?"

He could feel the heat flooding his face, but Harry's voice was steady once he found it. "No…" It was that simple he realized even as his eyes scanned over the door of the compartment.

Seamus smiled, "Well, I better be going… Dean and the others will be wondering and you have Hermione and Ron to meet." The moment felt awkward to him and it seemed to rob him of all his witty remarks and flirtations.

"Yeah," was all Harry replied, his mind already thinking over his answer and the excuses he would make to his friends.

"Yeah…" The Irish boy parroted as he turned towards the door. "Yeah. Well." His hand touched the door, "See ya at Hogwarts, Harry."

While Seamus made his way toward his friends' compartment, mentally lecturing himself on his lack of grace, Harry exited the compartment and headed toward his own destination, his mind also occupied.

---

"I thought we left the school part of this trip back in the Perfect's Compartment along with all the other terrible parts of returning to school… like Pansy and Draco. Would you put that book up already, 'Mione?" Ron's voice cried in exasperation. "You can read it later, you know!"

"The school part of returning to Hogwarts is never 'left behind' and I want to be prepared for whatever Snape throws at us this year so, no, I can't read it later." Hermione replied, her eyes never leaving the page.

"You'll just read it again anyway…"

"I fail to see your point."

" I don't see why you can't spare a the last part of the train ride for conversation."

Hermione sighed in exasperation and she looked up closing her book slightly by keeping her index finger between the pages to mark her place. "Ron…", she tried again, pleading with her eyes that he would let her return to the book.

"Hermione…" Ron mimicked, failing to catch the plea as he raised his eyebrow.

Harry smiled as he reached the door of the compartment, listening to his friends. _'At least somethings never change,'_ he thought to himself as the sound of Hermione's stifled laughter reached him. Peeking in he noticed Ron's expression. Hermione could never keep a straight face when he used it.

"You know, Ron, if you used half of the energy you throw into your quidditch strategies and arguments, Draco Malfoy might have some competition for Head Boy next year."

Harry secretly smiled.

"Draco Malfoy? Head Boy?" The incredulous tone in his friend's voice had Harry forcing himself not to laugh. "I can't imagine that git representing us as the best and brightest! How? When? The only class I've ever known him to excel at is Potions and that is because he is the Professor's little _pet_."

Harry took the moment to step into the compartment. It was sad that Draco had broke up the playful argument. For as long as Harry could remember, Ron and Hermione had butted heads as often as they agreed and as they had aged, the arguments seemed to change, becoming a habit and to Harry something more. It was proof. They both would have denied it till the day they died, but under the flying fur and deafening screams was the foundation of true affections. Being an onlooker, he caught the intense glances or half-smiles that one would sport only when the other was occupied. 

Smiling, Harry walked in, taking his seat beside Ron as he interrupted their conversation, not noticing the use of Malfoy's first name in his thoughts. "How? Easy, he worked for it… so I guess it wasn't that easy was it? When? He's always been high in the ranking, but last year he really put himself into it. Didn't you notice the lack of attention he paid us?"

Hermione was startled out of her book, closing it completely as she focused on Harry. So he had noticed Draco's change in behavior after all.

Ron simply sat there too dumbstruck to talk as he thought back over last year. He hadn't noticed anything unusual, but then, Malfoy didn't rank up there on his list of important people.

"As to him being Snape's pet, I have no comment, but I know for a fact that he's not the only one in the running for Head Boy anyway." Harry offered. "Three other boys are competing against him."

"Who?" Ron and Hermione asked in sync. Hermione sincerely interested and Ron simply hoping for someone to support against Malfoy.

"Peter O'Connor and Clef Treine from Ravenclaw."

Hermione made a sound of approval, "Malfoy's going to find some good competition in them, but who is the other competitor? Aerion Knightley?"

"No. No more Ravenclaws." Harry teased.

Ron looked confused and Hermione seemed to become seriously thoughtful. 

"No one in Hufflepuff has points close enough to either Malfoy or the Ravenclaws so that leaves it to someone in Gryffindor." Hermione reasoned.

Ron seemed to brighten up at the prospect and turned to Harry. "Come on, Mate, who is it?"

"Potter."

The cool voice punctuated the air of the compartment with that one word and had all three friends turning toward the door and the three figures that filled it. 

"Potter, is the other one I am up against for Head Boy next year." Malfoy explained as he leaned his left shoulder casually against the doorframe, his silver blonde hair falling carelessly across his face. Beyond him, Crabbe and Goyle had taken their usual place, flanking him, their large, hulking figures, giving Malfoy a greater look of delicacy and grace. "Isn't that right, Potter?"

Hermione, who had struggled to keep the appreciative sigh from her lips at Malfoy's appearance, turned quickly toward Harry, a new awe showing in her face. Ron barely caught anything of the conversation as he glared at the Slytherin.

Harry ignored his friends and looked calmly at Malfoy, meeting stare for stare. "It is."

"I believe you've thoroughly shocked her, Potter. She is speechless." Malfoy purred. "That's no easy feat. You must be congratulated, Potter."

Ron tensed, leaning forward. He was on the verge of speaking when Hermione cut in.

"You wasted no time in forcing your presence upon us, Malfoy."

"Wouldn't want to disappoint you, Granger." Malfoy spat.

Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle guffawed, proving to the other four that even though they had passed their NEWTS, amazingly, they still had little actual brainpower. Malfoy shot them a silencing look and they quickly complied.

Hermione on the other hand was pondering over the use of her actual name rather than the usual term of 'Mudblood' that Malfoy had become so fond of since their second year.

"At least you know that you don't face competition from those beneath you, eh Malfoy?" Ron offered, nodding toward the two cronies.

"What? Is Potter not in the running anymore?" Malfoy asked innocently, his eyes focusing back on Harry, remembering the way he had stood beside the other boy not more than an hour ago. Narrowing his eyes he continued, pleased to see both Ron and Hermione preparing to take the defensive, "Then again, I suppose Potter would be little enough competition as it is."

"Too much time having to look over his shoulder to keep his nose in a book."

Five sets of eyes widened at the thick voice, turning to see Goyle putting on a hideous imitation of Malfoy's trademark smirk. Goyle was practically glowing with the thrill of the insult and Crabbe was basking in his other half's glory. 

Malfoy shot him a look that warned him not to attempt another pathetic shot at victory and Goyle looked down, shuffling his feet defeatedly.

Ron broke the silence with sarcastic awe, "So he can make complete sentences after all."

Goyle's fists clenched and he made to step into the compartment but Draco held out his arm to prevent him.

"I felt the exact same surprise, Weasel, when I saw that you walked upright, but lets not get started on my uncertainty of your evolution."

Now it was Harry's turn to hold out his arm and prevent one of his own from beginning something physical. 

"Feel awfully safe behind your Saint Potter don't you, Weasel?" Malfoy hissed, resenting the protection Harry offered to the red head.

Harry stood up to fully face the blonde, but Ron was already snapping back a reply.

"I don't need him to take on a fop like you, Malfoy," Ron's hand touched Harry's shoulder in support, "but the offer of having him either before, beside or behind me is always appreciated."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at the Weasel. The effect on Harry had been a relax in the tension he had taken when he stood and a smile curving his lips. Some question in Harry's mind had been answered, an uncertainty had been calmed; Malfoy had caused it, but Ron had answered it. Draco eyed the hand on Harry's arm with open distaste and secret envy.

"So, that brings up an interesting question, Ferret." Ron began, "What gives you courage when your father isn't here to hide behind? Those two can't be much good when you dig the hole to deep?"

"I can handle myself, _Weasel_!"

"Oh, of course, what with all that _Evil Minion_ training you received this summer I don't doubt it." Hermione's prim voice chimed in.

Draco was caught between anger and amusement at the reference to the summer and the encounter in Diagon Alley, but as amusement wouldn't do, the sneer that curled his lips was the only outward emotion he allowed to show. Slightly exasperated, he raked a hand through his hair, unaware of the consequence until Hermione's gasp and Ron's barely stifled laugh had his hand stilling in mid-motion.

__

The earring…

"Nice accessory, Malfoy." Ron practically snorted.

Hermione ventured not to say anything, her thoughts running over the possibilities and the reasons and Harry was simply at a loss. That was twice today, the earring had been noticed openly with skepticism and curiosity.

Hermione didn't fail to notice Harry's confusion and made a mental note to talk to him as soon as possible.

"Did you figure _that_ out as well this summer?" Ron rampaged on, a sly inference lining his words.

Draco caught the hint and colored at the insult. "Unlike you, you hypocritical Catholic shit, I don't hold to tradition when I find it meaningless. My decision was chosen years ago. This," he growled, fingering the silver loop, "is nothing more than fashion. Which, I must say, you could take a lesson in." Draco tilted his head to look down his nose at the red head. "There is some stain or other below your collar."

Ron stood up, his face the same color of his hair as he fought to push Harry out of the way. "Move, Harry. Now."

"Oh, look, Weasel. You do have fashion sense. At least you can coordinate colors well." Malfoy quirked an eyebrow and looked questioning. "How do you get your face to match the color of your hair?"

"Why you…" Ron growled.

Harry remained between the two but said nothing, merely keeping them from each other.

"Honestly, Weasley, have you forgotten how to talk so easily. A moment ago you were marveling at Goyle, now your speech is far below what he used." Malfoy shook his head sadly, "Tsk, tsk. You really are quite the hypocrite aren't you."

"At least I'm not a _traitor_!" Ron spat, glaring at the Slytherin with pure hatred. He had given up trying to get past Harry, he was a complete barrier between the two enemies.

Now it was Malfoy who stepped forward, his body inches from Harry's as he focused on the boy beyond. "What do you mean by that?"

The voice was low and menacing, and Draco's actions had Crabbe and Goyle cracking their knuckles, preparing for a fight.

Something cold seemed to shiver along Ron's skin, but the fire that was burning inside nullified the sensation. Harry on the other hand, felt the full force of the wave and shivered at the metaphysical touch.

Draco could feel the power overtaking him, but the anger was so strong he ignored it. In the window he could see the slight shimmer of silver and blue from his eyes, but the concern was beyond him. He could care less. Maybe if they knew how dangerous he truly was…

"Tell me, _Traitor_," Ron whispered harshly, so that only those in the immediate compartment could hear, "tell me, how is your _master_?"

Hermione and Harry both turned their heads to stare at Ron sure that he had taken the insults too far. He was risking his life by that assumption and statement.

"What are you talking about, Weasel?"

Malfoy's face had paled at the mention of Voldemort. The use of the word 'master' had his fist clenching, itching to contact with the jaw that held that smug smile across from him.

"Come on, Malfoy, tell us, have you reached your mark yet?"

Harry's eyes focused on Draco, guilt making him look to the Slytherin. Malfoy's color was gone, the lifelessness that Harry had seen on a few occasions masked his face, and his eyes seemed dull and unfocused. From the doorway he could see Crabbe and Goyle smiling openly, the idea of Malfoy in the service of Voldemort and marked seemed a highly pleasing thought, but the look on Draco's face had Harry wondering just what Draco thought of the prospect.

The cold shiver left as Malfoy stepped back, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. Harry had the sudden impulse to reach out but the touch on his shoulder had him looking back at Ron's face instead. If Malfoy's look was everything of dejection, Ron's was everything to the opposite. There was a glow of sheer triumph about Ron and Harry hated that the reason for his friend's pleasure was the same reason why he wanted to hit him.

Harry turned around in time to see Malfoy disappear into the corridor, the same lost look still plastered on his face. 

Crabbe soon followed, but Goyle lingered till he was sure Draco was out of earshot. "Watch your backs, freaks." With that he waddled/ran down to join his comrades.

"That got him, it did." Ron cried exuberantly.

Hermione was too shocked to do more than nod dumbly and open her book back up to the section on nettled Wigbee wings. Harry also failed to offer the necessary enthusiasm as his mind was focused on a blonde hair Slytherin. He no longer felt himself sure about his nemesis' affiliation. Perhaps there was hope after all.

The rest of the trip passed away without incident after Ron gave up trying to get cheerful conversation about what had passed between him and Malfoy out of his friends. Malfoy may have been gone and each one doing their own thing: studying, reading, and thinking, but all their minds were on Malfoy for one reason or another…

---

Harry stepped off of the Hogwarts Express and smiled as he breathed in the air. It was cool and crisp, but the sky was clear and a full moon cast her light over the students. Above them, and further back, Hogwarts Castle stood in its slight beauty, the winking windows of light giving it a warmth and welcome. Giving the castle one last glance, Harry turned to join Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the upper years as they made there way toward the carriages. The loud, cheerful voice of the gamekeeper had the Trio stopping to catch Hagrid's eye and be waved on as he rounded up the first years for the traditional boat de across the lake.

In was the quietest walk to the carriages that the three friends had ever known; Hermione was uncertain, Ron was silently mad that his victory wasn't praised, and Harry was thoughtful and silently reveling in the return the Hogwarts.

Harry watched as the carriages were filled. Seamus had positioned himself near Harry, Ron, and Hermione, so it had left a hole in the carriage that Ginny, Dean, and Neville were sharing. A raven haired girl took his place. Harry thought he had heard Ginny say the name '_Celes_' and the words '_transfer student_' when Ron asked before she had gotten into the compartment. 

__

'That's something new," Harry thought as he paused by his own carriage, holding the door open for the other three, he looked further up the line of, what to other students appeared to be horseless carriages. Since last year, Harry had joined the few students who could see the creatures that pulled the carriages. Thestrals, Hagrid had told the class when he had attempted to introduce them to the fifth year classes, and they could only be seen by those who had view death. Ever since Cedric's death, Harry had been able to see the skeletal creatures.

There was a certain beauty to them, but that wasn't what caught Harry's eye. Two carriages up, just in front of Ginny's carriage, Malfoy was standing beside on of the creatures, his hand moving over what Harry could only term the flank. The thestral seemed calm, its white eyes focused on the blonde beside it.

"Hey, Harry, you coming?" Ron's voice burst through the wall of thought.

"Yeah, just a s-" Harry began but Ron had already leaned out the door to see what Harry was looking at.

"What's Malfoy doing?"

"He appears to be petting the thestral in front of his carriage." Harry said easily as he began to get in, hoping Ron would be persuaded to go back in. 

No such luck.

"Can't you only see those if you've seen someone die?" There was the sly tone that he had used earlier in his voice and had Harry's knuckles blanching around the door..

"Yes, Ron."

Even Ron wasn't so far gone not to catch the warning in Harry's voice. "Sorry, mate, but wouldn't that mean Malfoy has watched someone die?"

"I suppose so." Harry murmured as he moved past Ron, casting a sideways glance at the Slytherin before taking his seat beside Seamus.

After a few moments, Ron pulled back into the compartment and sat beside Hermione. "It just makes me wonder, that's all, you know."

They all knew what Ron meant, even Seamus knew Ron enough to guess what he was insinuating, but unlike Hermione who refused to talk for principle, Harry who was still thinking over what he had seen and doing his best to ignore his best friend, Seamus was willing to carry on a conversation about Malfoy's more shady qualities.

Glad to have a partner in degrading Malfoy, Ron carried on with Seamus unconcerned that the other two in the carriage were less than impressed as they made their way up to Hogwarts.

---

"Malfoy, come on!" Pansy's shrill voice called out from up the stairs.

He had lagged behind purposefully. He was still berating himself for the confrontation he had caused and was even more angry that he had let Weasley get at him like that. That one statement had been a reminder of what everyone who knew him was thinking and, he thought, remembering his arm, they weren't far wrong. Only in that respect though. He wasn't some underling, scrambling for scraps at the feet of the Dark Lord. He wasn't trapped in the endless cycle of desire for power that his father had fallen into. He would ever be that… _'pathetic_', he finished as he caught up with Pansy.

"Dray… come on." She purred as she slipped her arm through his. "Lets get this formality over with. I have some things I want to talk over with you…"

Sighing, Draco made his way into the Great Hall, filing down to the Slytherin table to take his seat at the head of the table near the teacher's table. Settling in, he ignored the brush of Pansy's thigh against his under the table and let his gaze wonder down his own table, taking in the count of those in Voldemort's ranks and those that there was still hope to save. None but him and Parkinson had been '_gifted_' with the Mark, but that didn't mean there weren't others mired in the darkness that the Dark Lord had spun.

He had to take tally… it would be helpful information.

Sliding his eyes away from his house peers, he let his gaze fall on Potter as he entered. He was surrounded as usual by the other parts of his Trio, and more indistinctly by the rest of Gryffindor, but one was walking closer to Harry, in the circle of the Trio. Finnigan!

Draco's eyes snapped open as he felt the eyes of another on him. Turning he met Dumbledore's open gaze. There was that same damn sparkle in his eyes behind the half-moon glasses. Dumbledore always seemed to know too much and that had always irritated him, but now it didn't. Tossing the old man a smirk he looked back to his own table. The old man didn't know everything, but Draco could help with that…

"I hate that old man. He watches us too close, Draco." Pansy hissed.

"He's no threat, Parkinson. Keep your voice down and your thoughts to yourself."

Pansy pouted but took the warning and turned back to talk with Millicent Bullstrode.

Draco turned back to the front as Professor McGonagall filed in the new first years.

---

Harry was seated between Seamus and Hermione at the head of the Gryffindor table, Ron across from the three with Ginny and Dean flanking him. All of them had taken the traditional moment of looking around the Great Hall. The floating candles, the gold and silver china, and of course the dark cloudless sky, complete with full moon that the ceiling mirrored from outside. It was all warmth and familiarity and yet it held as much wonder for Harry as it had the day he had first entered.

Ginny was on the topic of Celes with the other five when Harry finally came around and chimed into the conversation. "Celes who?"

Everyone turned to Harry and he felt himself flush.

"I knew he wasn't listening." Ginny teased, smiling at Harry. "Celes D'Valynier. She's a transfer student from Beaubaxton."

"Go on from where you left off, Ginny. It's Harry's own fault that he was of in Neverland." Dean urged, but both Ron and Ginny were confused and it took another ten minutes of explaining what he meant by Neverland before the topic was picked back up.

"Well…" Ginny began again.

"Where is she?" Harry piped in, not having paid attention during the Neverland topic and so loosing track again.

Frustrated Ginny scowled and was on the verge of speaking again when Hermione interrupted.

"The first years…"

Everyone turned and Ginny forgot about being annoyed to focus in on the Sorting.

The Sorting Hat was placed down on the stool and McGonagall had taken her place respectfully behind it, when the deep, wispy voice of the hat called out across the room.

"We gather here in darkening times

Though many would deny

For knowledge must pass ever on

Or so the teacher's try

Though a thousand years have passed

The boundaries still run deep

And by division to four houses

Our prejudice we keep

Four united; Four divided

Together we must stand

Wizards of the past and future

Once again must band

Tradition carries Hogwarts on

And tradition must remain

Thus upon this stool you'll sit

And I shall pick your brain

Sure I am a tattered hat 

Battered and dulled by time

But I've a brain beneath the brim

Knowledge that spans all time

What shall I see inside your head?

What traits will you prove to me?

Which wizard would have valued you?

In which house shall you be?

Would Gryffindor have preferred you?

In Gryffindor House will you be?

Where daring and bravery are valued

Along with nerve and chivalry.

Or would it have been Ravenclaw

And to her house you will belong

Knowledge and wit is ever prized

And there you can't go wrong.

Hufflepuff is pleasant enough

And she chose her students with care

Ever loyal and patient are they

Who dwell in friendship there

Perhaps Slytherin would better suit

The cunning and ambition of your heart

Slytherin valued both of those

And here you could have your start

All four equal in tradition

Equal in prestige and fame

But to one alone will you belong

Divided by only a name

But I caution you all who enter

And all who here belong

Divided you are still united

And united you are strong

So step on up and begin

The sorting of the young

So I may sleep another year

Now that my song is sung"

Silence descended upon the Hall, awe pressing upon the students. Even the teacher's seemed amazed at the lyrics of the hat. Then it happened, it burst upon the room in a wave of noise that left the walls echoing. The applause was unanimous and even Slytherin House joined in enthusiastically. The Sorting Hat had out done itself this year.

As the applause died down, McGonagall stepped forward again, parchment in hand and began calling up the new students. 

Harry watched, remembering his own nervousness when he had sat before the school and had the hat placed upon his head. It had suggested being placed in Slytherin and that was something he never forget, as much as he might like. Dumbledore could brush it away but it was still there at the back of his mind. 

When the last student stepped down and made her way toward the Ravenclaw table McGonagall continued to stand before the Hall, making no movement to remove the stool or the hat. The change in ritual, had all eyes focusing on the Professor.

"We are privileged this year in having a transfer student from Beaubaxton joining us here at Hogwarts this year and as Beaubaxton does not have the same sorting system as we do, she has agreed to be sorted with the first years in front of the school."

"I couldn't very well have it said that a bunch of first years were braver than I am could I?"

The voice answered from the doors to the side of the teacher's table and all eyes turned toward it. McGonagall seemed almost shocked to have been interrupted, but the intruder seemed unconcerned enough as she stepped into the hall and toward the Professor. 

She was about 5'7" on a frame that was willow thin and just as graceful. Ebony water fell down her back in a waterfall of rich hair, tucked behind both her ears. Her voice was a mixture of rich English and deep French, but it wasn't her hair, her figure, or her voice that made Harry stare. It was her eyes; laughing and brilliant they were a light shade of blue-grey that only one other person had ever owned… Malfoy. They were the same eyes. The exact same he almost swore when they met his momentarily before meeting Ginny's and smiling as she waved.

Ginny waved back and turned hurriedly back to her friends. "I hope she is in Gryffindor," but she didn't listen long enough to hear a reply as she turned back and watched the girl.

"Celes D'Valynier", McGonagall introduced primly.

Celes only smiled and made her way toward the stool and took her seat like the others before her.

The entire Hall seemed to quiet again as they waited for the Hat to pronounce her house. Ginny could be seen crossing her fingers and because Ginny seemed to really like the girl, Harry too hoped she would be place in Gryffindor.

The moments moved on in excruciating pain.

Celes simply smiled.

Hermione whispered to Harry that the only one known to have taken this long to place had been he himself. 

Harry looked at the girl wondering if the house was talking her about two different houses. She didn't seem torn or worried as he had felt.

Her smile seemed to widen but still time went on until…

****

"SLYTHERIN!"

The one word boomed out across the Hall and silence reigned for a full ten seconds as the result sunk in. At the Slytherin table a blonde figure stood up and began to applaud warmly as Celes made her way toward the Slytherin side of the room. The rest of the Slytherin table joined in as the two figures stood facing each other.

The rest of the room burst out in a hum of noise, Ginny looking shocked and disappointed as she turned away to look questioningly at Hermione. Hermione simply shrugged and continued watching the girl across the room.

"Draco…"

The word was soft but everyone was so focused on Celes that it wasn't lost on any of them.

There were several audible gasps as Draco smiled. 

"Celes…"

"Malfoy smiled!" Ron exclaimed, "Did Malfoy just actually _smile_? Not sneer, not smirk, not grin, but actually _smile?_"

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it…" Hermione whispered.

"Then don't look now but she is hugging him and I think he is actually hugging him back." Seamus' voice was filled with denial.

True enough, Celes had her arms locked around Draco's shoulder's and Draco to complete the gesture had his arms linked around her waist. They were practically mirror images, but for the hair color and obvious differences in their figures. 

Draco was the first to pull back and had Pansy move further down so that Celes could be seated by him.

"What do you think all that was about?" Ginny whispered.

"I don't know, but Parkinson isn't too happy with her existence at the moment. That is for sure." Dean added, attempting to lighten the mood.

"How do they know each other?" Ginny continued, in obvious denial.

"I don't know." Hermione tried to offer.

"She is too nice. Has such a pleasant and open personality. How can she know Malfoy? How can she be so close as to hug him? Why is she in Slytherin?"

Hermione shook her head at Ginny, "I don't have any idea, Ginny. They are the only ones who would know. You'll just have to ask them if you want to know."

Harry watched intently as Draco picked up an energetic conversation with the new girl. His mind was echoing Ginny's, but he would be the last to admit that there was anything he was curious to know about Draco Malfoy. 

He was so intent on watching the two that he missed most of Dumbledore's opening speech and focused in only in time to hear something about the third floor corridor being off limits once again. From the looks Ron and Hermione were giving him, they were thinking back to their first year and what had taken place.

"What could Dumbledore be doing closing that off again?" Hermione thought out loud as the food materialized on the table before them.

"I don't know, 'Mione. Maybe he's found a stone that turns men into chickens and is trying to keep it from You-Know-Who, so that he wont be able to fulfill his plans to conquer the market on poultry." Ron offered, but Harry could tell that his thoughts were back at the dangerous chess game they had played.

Harry turned to look at Dumbledore, but he was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall. Shrugging Harry looked back to the food before him as he began loading his plate. He almost dropped the roll at the sudden press of Seamus' knee against his own. Forcing himself not to blush, he set the roll back down and remembered that he still had an answer to give. Looking back up, he watched as Celes offered Draco a strawberry tart and Draco smile as he took it. 

The sight had him looking back at his plate, his face drawn and focused as he came to a decision. Glancing over at Seamus he caught a warm smile and looked back down at his plate, but how to tell him without drawing attention…

Reaching inside his robe he brought his wand out and taking a chocolate starr, whispered a few words and placed his wand back in his robes. Turning to Seamus, he held out the starr, "You've got to try this…"

Startled, Seamus took the starr, looking at it, confused for a moment until the spell began to work and his eyes widened with understanding.

"_Yes, I will… Meet me in the Tower tonight._" Flashed across the surface of the chocolate starr twice before disappearing.

Seamus turned to Harry and grinned as he popped the starr into his mouth. Harry returned the smile, pleased as much from his decision as from the fact that everyone was none the wiser. In happy ignorance he turned back to his dinner, eating without the slightest worry at being discovered.

But from across the room, Malfoy frowned as he bit into the strawberry tart.

Hermione watched both…

****

TBC…

----------------------------------

I really enjoyed writing this and I really hope you review my work. I have to say that I loved writing the Sorting Hat's song thought… 

Please Read and Review! Please!!!

I hope it wont take so long to get the next chapter out but I don't know if I can top this one *looks back over the chapter and sighs* It will be hard… I'll try though

Blessed Be!


	7. Connections and Revelations

Hello Dear Reader,

You have no idea how sorry I am that this chapter took SO long… really I am. I am; however, very proud of what I have created and I hope that it is worth all the time we both had to wait. Please, enjoy reading this and if you're not too upset, leave me a review!

Thank you for being patient!

Alex…

* * *

  
**-------------------------**

The feast was taking entirely too long. It was becoming a slow and agonizing form of torture to watch the Gryffindor as he laughed and joked with his 'inner circle'. Oh, and those oh-so-obvious secretive glances the ebony haired boy kept shooting sidelong at Finnigan were testing every fiber in his being! Who did Harry think he was fooling?

A high pitched laugh rang out across the hall and Draco caught the movement as the youngest Weasley punched her brother playfully in the arm, blushing.

Alright, so the boy was probably fooling quite a few people, but Draco Lucius Malfoy was not one of them.

"Want a bite?"

The bright voice and soft hand pulled him back to the present and Draco turned toward Celes. She held out a strange confection made, from what he could see, entirely out of cherries and whip cream, but the gleam in her eyes as she lifted her hand from his arm, dipped her finger into the whip cream and brought it to her lips, told him she wasn't talking about the dessert.

"You know I don't like cherries," he countered. Deliberately he imitated her move sweeping his finger through the whip cream, carefully avoiding the cherry sauce.

The pout that teased her lips was charming on her face and would have crumbled a mountain, but Draco knew her too well. Her insincerity in the offer was in the way her lips tried to smile and the knowing look in her eyes when she met his. She knew she was causing a stir and was enjoying her power over others.

"How could I have forgotten?" Feigning distress she looked over the table's contents and chose another offering. "Breadstick?"

Draco fought down the urge to laugh into his tea. Even he wasn't immune to her havoc, he reminded himself as he set the goblet down.

"More to your taste?" She asked innocently.

"Thanks," he muttered, sending her a scathing look as he took the bread.

No matter how much of a disaster she threatened to cause, his cousin had always been his only lifeline to sanity. His only one until now. She was the only one who ever really knew him, knew his thoughts and feelings, knew his likes and dislikes. Their relationship had proven to be one of the greatest comforts his life afforded. But sometimes, he thought as she glanced toward the Gryffindor table, it wasn't always comforting. She knew him _too _well.

She would be after him later, dragging him into a five hour long confessional. It might be worth it, he thought when he caught the indignant glare of Pansy over Celes' shoulder. It would save him from having to beat Parkinson off of him for that short span of time. Pansy might not realize it yet, but her life was about to become the living hell it had always been destined to become since the day they had become affianced. She was a pawn in the game Voldemort and Lucius had devised, but no matter how close she was positioned, she would never become a queen.

Pansy had been marked as a sacrifice all along.

Dumbledore's voice cut through Draco's pity and he tore his eyes from the misguided girl toward the Headmaster.

"A new year, new faces, and a new chance… for all of us," he added easily, but Draco caught his eyes and briefly wondered if he hadn't underestimated Dumbledore's knowledge.

"Madam Hooch has requested that I advise you all that the Quidditch season will be pushed back by two weeks while we have repairs completed on the pitch. Mr. Filtch has been so courteous as to have had lists of all forbidden items sent to each of the dormitory common rooms. The number of items is expected to double since the graduation of last years class." There was a gleam in his eyes as he looked purposefully at the Gryffindor table. "Again, let me remind you that the third floor corridor is off limits to all students. Have I forgotten anything?" He paused for a moment and then picking up his wand cast an indulgent smile over the four tables. "Very well, then lets finish with the singing of the school song and then up to bed."

As the words to the song spelled out in alternating colors above Dumbledore's head the entire hall broke out into a chaos of conflicting rhythms as each student chose their own tune for the words.

Above the clamor two voices echoed, seeming to unite the others into a forced harmony. As the other's finished they turned toward the Slytherin table, listening to the blend of English with French as Celes translated the words. Draco and Celes grinned at each other as they matched their voices to each other in a slow and obviously French melody.

As they finished the hall broke out into scattered applause, most not knowing what to think. Malfoy had never really been heard singing before, but now he had actually participated and in such a show of talent. Celes was being looked on with envy, awe, and, from Pansy's general direction, loathing. The most enthusiastic applause came from four different directions: Dumbledore, Snape, Hermione, and Ginny could be heard above all the others. Blaize added to the clamor whistling his appreciating, but where the applause was most wanted there was nothing.

Harry was pointedly in conversation with Ron and Seamus. Most likely discussing their plans for quidditch with the renovations and all. It shouldn't have irritated him. He told himself that it shouldn't matter that Harry wasn't even curious about the uncharacteristic display. It was only singing after all, but for some reason it grated on his nerves.

Beneath the table, Celes rested her hand on his knee in comfort.

She did know him too well.

Draco relaxed and turned back toward the teacher's table where Dumbledore was still applauding.

"Beautiful display from our Slytherins. Bravo Mr. Malfoy. Mademoiselle D'Valynier."

Draco almost cringed at the word 'display', it sounded so undignified and un-Malfoyish. Displays were opposite to everything he had been taught, but the warm smile that Celes cast his way had him nodding acknowledgment back toward the Headmaster.

"And now it is off to bed. Prefects, your houses, please."

Students departed the Great Hall in a melee of disorder despite the efforts of the prefects. Even Granger's prim voice and cold threats couldn't make the students line out as they spilled out in their general directions. In a school where time was scheduled out and everything was meant to be uniform, rebellion and individuality when available became necessary.

Draco held back, watching as the Great Hall emptied. He wanted no part of the maelstrom, never had. Besides, he had business to take care of that couldn't wait.

"Dray," Pansy's voice shattered through his thoughts, "are you coming? I thought we might have a little chat before bed." Her fingers played along the length of his sleeve, briefly brushing his hand, her smile coy. It was a blatant invitation. "There are a few things I want to discuss with you."

"Not tonight, Parkinson." Draco replied tiredly, he just didn't have enough patience to create an elaborate excuse. "It's been a long day and…"

"And," Celes' voice interrupted, "I've already reserved Drake for tonight." Arms slithered over his chest as Celes offered him protection and staked her claim against Pansy. "We have so much to catch up on, and he promised me a quick tour of the castle. I'd like to have a little bit of an idea where I'm going tomorrow."

It was almost nauseating, the intensity of hatred that was radiating from Pansy. Celes merely tightened her hold, a contented and patronizing smile curving her lips.

"You understand."

"Oh, I understand alright, you little b-"

"Parkinson!"

It wasn't a shout, but a command and even with that Pansy still looked close to exploding.

"Pansy…"Draco tried a different approach. "That will be quite enough. As a prefect and a nominee for Head Boy, it is my obligation to make sure that the members of my house feel welcome and comfortable with their surroundings." Draco's eyes narrowed slightly in warning, "You wouldn't want me to make a habit of disregarding my _duties_."

The threat was there in his eyes, but Pansy never caught it as she glared over Draco's shoulder at Celes.

"But…", she objected indignantly.

"Tomorrow. We _will _discuss your 'things' and your actions, but it will be _tomorrow_, Parkinson."

Seething, Pansy turned and strode from the Great Hall.

"Your marriage ought to be heavenly, Drake."

"Remind me to hate you after my gratitude fades."

Laughing easily Celes gave him a quick hug. "You know I'd do anything for you, Drake." Glancing over her shoulder and the Slytherin girl's retreating back she added, "And getting a few claws into a bitch like that makes my job all the more enjoyable. She hates me."

"Can you blame her? She thinks of me as her property and you're threatening her claim."

"Yes I can because she does view you as property. There is no real claim anyway, and if there were," Celes paused, looking toward the Gryffindor table, "I'm not the one she should be worried about."

"There isn't much a threat at the moment", he admitted. He admired her too much to try and deny the truth.

"I wouldn't say that. He's definitely your type, Drake. Dark. Introverted. Famous. A bit of a brooder, I imagine. Caring. And he is absolutely sexy."

"You have such a keen eye and appreciation for the male species. Too bad your not interested in them."

"Yeah… go figure." She smiled at him as if sharing a secret that only they knew. "So, where are you sneaking off to?"

"Adolescent mischief?"

"Fine then, keep your secrets." Her pout was back. "Never mind that I saved your ass from being a chew toy tonight. You've never done anything truly adolescent in your life, so why would you start now?"

Celes' tone might have been scolding, but the fingers she brushed through his hair betrayed her concern. "Celes…"

"You only keep secrets from me when you're not sure of the outcome. Don't be reckless, Drake. I hate it when you're reckless."

"That's why I never tell you," he teased. "If things go the way I want you'll be the first to know, I promise." Smirking he pressing a kiss to her cheek as he moved past her, toward the exit. "Don't wait up, luv."

"You wont get around me that easily, Draco Malfoy!" she hollered after him. "Your way or not you will be telling me before tomorrow is over and you know it!" He simply raised his hand as he passed through the doorway.

'You never change do you, Cousin?', she smiled to herself.

"I hope he's worth it."

* * *

**-------------**  


'You'd better be worth this , Potter.' Draco unknowingly echoed his cousin's words, reprimanding the absent youth as he strode through the hallways. His strides were becoming longer and swifter, almost agitated, the longer he walked. The halls were doing a number on his patience and he dreaded what he might do if anyone tried to hinder him in his quest. Not even Celes or Potter would be immune. In fact, he mused, Potter might just be the most susceptible since it was because of his sorry ass that Draco was stalking the uncooperative hallways when his body was screaming for rest.

"Damn it. How come every time I try and avoid Dumbledore and his authority I always end up finding myself in front of his office, but now that I actually want to find the stupid statue the castle wont let me near it?" Draco cursed as he paused and leaned against an archway column. This was just his luck, the one time he decided to do something 'noble', he was being prevented from actually doing it.

The entire castle seemed so intent on protecting Potter, often sending Draco down wrong turns and dead ends when his animosity toward the Gryffindor had him seeking him out. It had proved annoying on more than one occasion, but now… now it was excruciating.

"We both want the same thing…", he whispered to the castle as he glared down either end of the corridors.

Minutes passed and the corridors remained silent and Draco didn't know if he was disappointed at the castle or amused at himself. With time drifting by, Draco pushed off from the wall and squared himself off in the middle of the corridor. "Very well, if you wont reveal your secret freely…" Kneeling down he pressed his palm to the cold marble tile, "**_Promptu discessio_**".

A thin line of brilliant purple traced itself around his hand and pulsed twice as Draco straightened. Then another and print appeared behind that one further along the corridor. Then another and another, and so they continued, forming a pulsing purple trail down the hall until they disappeared around a corner.

"One way or another.." Draco muttered and he stepped forward, following his own hand prints.

Two rights, three lefts, a semicircle, and six corridors later, Draco glared at the perverse lights he had created. An hour after he had left his cousin, thirty minutes after he had followed the revealing spell, he was still standing in another empty corridor and had had no glimpse of the Headmaster's office entrance. What was wrong with this castle? The willful corridors he had always found joy in were about to drive him completely mad.

"Finite Incantatem," he growled as the corridors grew dim once more. Letting out his breath in what he would never admit was a huff, he strode forward, determined to find the Headmaster's office. "Damned, if I'll give up!" he swore as he rounded a corner.

"Though I admire you're determination, Mr. Malfoy; however, I cannot agree with your colorful choice of words."

Abruptly Draco stopped, his heart slamming in his chest as he came face to face with the Headmaster. No matter what he had learned in his life, no matter what his heritage or power, something in those sparkling, weathered eyes always had the ability to make him feel like a child… a guilty one at this particular moment.

"Headmaster…" he greeted uneasily, fighting for some scrap of dignity.

"You are out after curfew, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore stated calmly, no reprimand to his voice.

"Yes, sir, but as a school prefect I have been allotted the privilege of walking out past curfew should my duties require me."

"Is it your prefect duties that have you out so late then?"

"No, sir." There didn't seem to be a reason to lie, it would jeopardize his entire effort. Draco merely met the Headmaster's gaze openly.

"Please, explain…" the old man offered, something like knowledge sparking behind his half-moon glasses.

"I was looking for you. I have something very important to discuss, if you would hear me." There it was, there was his opening. Now… it was all in Dumbledore's hands. Draco held his breath as he watched the Headmaster.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," the Headmaster nodded. "I have another guest at the moment; however, our business is complete. This way."

Draco followed the Headmaster's retreating back, cursing inwardly as he realized that the entrance to the Headmaster's quarters was just around the next turn. Dumbledore's voice came back to him and he heard the softly murmured the words '_Everlasting Gobstoppers_'. With a creak of stone the gargoyle shuffled hastily out of the way, its head bowed in humility as the Headmaster passed it by and onto the stairway, but it wasn't humility that Draco saw in the stone creature's face when he passed by; it was wariness and what could only be called contempt, if emotion could be attributed to the stone eyes.

"A past Headmaster enjoyed such displays of deference and after a few centuries, the gargoyle seems to have adopted the habit as a matter of honor. I've tried to persuade him that it isn't necessary, but he is a prideful creature, subservient and loyal."

"A very efficient sentry," Draco remarked dryly. "He doesn't seem pleased to let me pass."

"Strong, loyal, and often mistaken for actual stone, they are indeed efficient, but scarce. A dying breed, they have a wariness of humanity and especially of wizard-kind. Few believe they ever existed…" The top of the stairway was just ahead. "But you see him as he is, Mr. Malfoy… alive. Most students pass him over as mere decoration. That knowledge is a threat to his existence. Then there is your illustrious family history and current reputation for vandalism of school property."

Draco could hear the smile in the old man's voice. "If we are to judge me by the deplorable acts of my ancestors, then I would have been expelled from Hogwarts long ago, Sir. I know no one who's family history didn't contain some person whose existence it would have been preferable to erase. One cannot change another person's past mistakes." He fought to keep the indignity out of his voice as he continued, "And as to the 'vandalism', there is no evidence that I took part in any of the acts."

"Very well said, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore replied, and Draco thought he heard a hint of pride in the deep voice. "And you are correct, there is no evidence, but that doesn't change the truth. You are immaculately thorough in removing evidence and, may I say, meticulous when it comes to loose ends."

"Sir?" Was that a smile he heard in the Headmaster's words?

"You are an unique individual, the kind that historians remember. The ones noted for their leadership, scrutiny, power, cunning and deeds, both noble and despicable. How will future generations view your life, Draco? How will you be remembered?"

"I'm am not sure as to this line of questions, Headmaster." Where was Dumbledore going with this? Those were questions that had plagued him continually. How did Dumbledore stumble across his thoughts so effortlessly?

Dumbledore paused before the doors to his office and turned toward him, blue eyes find his own over the half-moon lenses.

"How do you _want _to be remembered, Draco?"

In that intense gaze, for the first time, Draco noticed just how old and weary was the man behind them. He saw the years, too many dark, that the old man had seen and caught the feeling of subdued power that robed the ancient figure. How had he missed this person before?

"I only _want _to be remembered as I _am_. Nothing more and definitely nothing less."

Dumbledore took a moment, watching him, before a smile broke through and the twinkle that blinded other's from seeing what was really behind it sparked to life.

"Again, Mr. Malfoy… Well said."

As Dumbledore turned away, pushing open the doors to his office, Draco let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.

Why was this so important to him anyway?

Emerald eyes locked onto his, reflected in the rain-slashed window, reflecting the sparkle of the golden snitch clasped in trembling fingers; those same fingers futilely brushing back unruly strands of ebony hair above a crooked, heart stealing smile…

"Now I remember…", he mused, a soft smile curving his lips.

"Remember what?"

The inquisitive voice interrupted Draco's train of thought and catching the Headmaster's eyes as he moved around to the other side of his desk, he stammered a reply, "N-nothing… It isn't important." Heat was flooding his face and he struggled to fight it down as he took in his surroundings.

He could physically feel himself relaxing in the warm toned atmosphere. Gold and silver, glass and crystal, sparkled from the numerous shelves. Objects of varying and often odd shapes and colors winked at him from their places of honor. Magickal objects whose importance or rarity would make any wizard moan with longing were scattered about like common knickknacks, with an unconscious dismissal of their value. Draco had the impression that underneath the disarray was an orderly system, one that only Dumbledore knew. Lucius would have sold half his assets simply to be allowed to choose but one object from this room, and the knowledge that Lucius' collection could not match the superiority to Dumbledore's, though it cut at his pride, was a source of twisted pleasure. However, it wasn't the objects that filled the room that held Draco's attention; it was the colors. Bold, deep shades in the colors of the four houses. Admittedly, there was a definite favoritism of red and gold, but the other colors hadn't been neglected. In fact, the colors were integrated together as often as style and taste allowed. Ravenclaw lays side by side with Hufflepuff, while Slytherin allowed itself to be embraced by Gryffindor.

The rich green pillow wrapped up in a warm red throw held him captivated for a moment until a movement to his left followed by Dumbledore's voice brought him back to himself.

"You, of course, remember Professor Lupin." Dumbledore stated easily as he took to his seat.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy."

Mentally upbraiding himself for his lack of focus, Draco turned towards the man that was now standing with his hand outstretched. "Yes, of course," Malfoy replied, taking the proffered hand into his own. It wasn't the warmest of handshakes, but both parties released it with mutual satisfaction. A new beginning.

He should have looked healthier at his time of life, Draco thought sadly as he took in the appearance of the man before him. Chestnut hair already streaked with gray over a gaunt face whose handsome features were barely visible, giving one an idea of what had been taken from him. His posture was erect and proud but there was feeling of exhaustion surrounding him. Two jagged scars stood out in white against the already pale skin of his face, but his smile was warm and welcoming as though there was nothing sorrowful in his existence. It was in his eyes, Draco decided, that the true character of the man come out; there was pain there in those soft brown depths, haunted from a life of struggle and discrimination, but beneath all of the shadows was a light that spoke of joy he had known once and a faith that he would know it again before the end.

Drawing himself from his appraisal, he caught a part of Dumbledore's words that had nagged at the back of his mind. "Professor?", he inquired, quirking an eyebrow and managing to stifle the smile that wanted to slip through.

From the other side of the chair the professor had been occupying, a low growl started as a large black dog stepped forward to place himself lengthwise in front of the older man

"It seems that sentries and bodyguards are in fashion." Draco watched the dog warily, refusing to back down from his position. "This one is familiar to me, though," he mused, looking back up at the man, taking no notice of the coiled canine body or the bared teeth. "In Diagon Alley, with the Weasley family. Is he yours then?"

"Um.. Uh.. Yes," Lupin replied hastily as he placed a restraining hand on the dog's head. "I claim him most of the time…" He struggled for easy humor and then fell silent, focusing on the dog's movements.

"Magnificient creature I've always thought," Dumbledore interjected. Picking up the conversation where Lupin left off, he answered Draco's earlier question, "And yes, Mr. Malfoy, Remus Lupin has indeed assumed the role of professor again. He was kind enough to be persuaded to return to his post as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher due to the utter lack of qualified volunteers."

"I'm sure that Professor Snape and my father are pleased with this appointment."

There was no bite to his voice, but a coldness seemed to tint his demeanor at the mention of his father and godfather. Something he had seen must have pleased the Headmaster as his smile brightened fractionally.

Again Draco became aware of the canine presence as the low growl grew in volume just in front of him. He refused to acknowledge the threat.

"Snuffles…" Dumbledore's voice reprimanded strongly, his features softening when the sound subsided. "Kindly move back and sit down."

Draco finally glanced at the dog long enough to watch it hesitate and then back slowly to a short distance behind the professor. Casting a look toward Dumbledore, the dog obediently sat down and resumed watching Draco.

"Sorry about that, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin apologized.

"Not at all."

"Back to you question, Draco," Dumbledore resumed, "Professor Snape passed over the position due to, as he put it, 'the increasing incompetence of the advancing classes as well as the disappointing ineptitude of the younger students'. Apparently, the work load that Professor Snape places upon his classes also increases the work for himself and he feels that at the moment he is in no position to command two classes."

The corner of Draco's lips twitch at the thought of his godfather's excuse but apprehension drew his mouth into a faint frown at the realization of what really kept Snape from accepting the position he had so long coveted. No doubt, his ulterior obligations would take what time he didn't spend lecturing and grading papers. Snape was in a strategic position, one that provided the Dark Lord with an advantage that could prove problematic to Draco's plan. That would have to be fixed…

"As to your father, there was of course a strong disinclination for the appointment; however, with Snapes refusal of the position there simply wasn't any other qualified person available. After that there was really no opposition for the board and Professor Lupin was reinstated, though placed under restricted limitations during full moons."

"Of course," Draco commented. Turning towards the Lupin, he nodded his head slightly. "Honored to have you back with us, Professor."

There was uncertainty at Malfoy's statement written in the weathered man's eyes, but he nodded in acknowledgement and managed a soft smile.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, what is it that has you out so late after curfew if it was not prefect duties?"

Draco cast a brief glance at Professor Lupin and remained silent, considering briefly whether his presence was necessary.

"Pardon me, Albus, but perhaps I should excuse myself and Snuffles since my presence is no longer required."

"Actually," Draco began, "it might be beneficial to have a witness for what I am about to discuss."

"I doubt that this matter concerns me and I'm not comfortable wit-"

"But you're a member of the Order are you not?"

Lupin stopped dead staring as the polished brass of the doorknob. Turning around slowly, he glanced quickly at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster's eyes were watching Draco with a slightly amused gleam, and so Lupin met Draco's gaze with his own. "The Order?"

Draco nodded, anticipation and the thrill of knowing he could never go back now ran through his veins like ice. "The Order of the Phoenix. That is what I wish to discuss tonight. You are a member of the Order, so in a way it concerns you to an extent. Also, having a witness for my testimony will make this more… I don't think legal applies when the Order is in operation without permission from the Ministry, but needless to say it will lead to less complications." Fear was gone and in its place stood determined resolve. He couldn't back out now, not after saying so much. This was what he had chosen and this is the path he would walk… and by the God and the Goddess he would walk it with pride.

Dumbledore leaned forward, resting easily against his elbows. "Remus, perhaps you and Snuffles should resume your seats."

"Yes…" Lupin murmured as he strolled back to the chair he had recently vacated, Snuffles seating himself between the man and Draco. "Of course."

Dumbledore took a moment, his eyes never leaving Draco's and Draco found himself unsettled by the depth of the look. It was as if Dumbledore were dissecting his personality, pealing away each layer until the truth of Draco's intentions were laid bare before him. Suddenly he smiled and gestured towards the other chair before him.

"Please be seated, Draco."

Draco could feel the tension ebbing away as he seated himself, his back resting against the pillow and throw he had seen earlier. It was a comfort of sorts and Draco drew courage from the memory of his purpose. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"What is it you want of the Order?"

Lupin straightened instantly, looking at the Headmaster as though he had completely lost all sense and rational thought. A pale hand found its way to rest against Snuffles, and the dog pressed its head against the hand in a reassuring gesture.

Draco glanced towards the Professor and black dog before looking back at the Headmaster. "This is to be a beginning and I want it to be a correct one. I know about Black," he stated as he motioned towards the black dog, " so there is no reason why he should have to remain in his animagus form. I'm sure he would feel much more comfortable and I would feel better with a human audience."

Dumbledore never took his eyes from Draco, but a slight nod had fur and bone contorting and reshaping into the figure of a man.

"How?" Black asked, glaring at the Slytherin adolescent.

Draco turned his eyes towards the figure, recognizing the face from the posted warranted that had littered the every building in Hogsmeade during third year. He seemed healthier, but still ragged which Draco supposed was the result of a life spent on the run. There was something dark about his character, something that screamed anger and pain and compared to the man sitting in the chair behind him with his quiet and peaceful demeanor, it was a contrast that could be nothing less than perfect. Draco watched as Black grasped out, without any thought Draco imagined, to find Lupin's hand, entwining their fingers lovingly together.

Some people were lucky, Draco mused absently, glancing once more that the joined hands before meeting hard dark eyes.

"Petigrew."

"Peter Petigrew is dead. I killed him." Sirius baited. "Or haven't you heard the tales?"

"You and I both know that isn't true. Just as we both know that you didn't betray Potter's parent's to the Dark Lord or kill those muggles that night. Petigrew did."

"Is that so? And just where did you come upon this knowledge, _Malfoy_?"

"Same place I learned about the existence of the Order of the Phoenix." Draco smirked at the man that would intimidate him. _You have no idea what you're messing with, Black_. "I have my connections."

Sirius simply glared down at him and Draco drank in the silence that reigned. They were waiting on him to answer. He was stalling and he knew it… there was no way of going back, but he could draw it out as long as he needed to do this. Dumbledore was observing , letting Black take charge of the inquiry while he assessed and Draco admired his brilliance.

"One learns quite a bit in the company of Voldemort's inner circle."

If there had been any ounce of attention wavering from him, it was now focused back in on him. Suspicion was washing in waves over him and he leaned back trying to maintain the image of ease.

"And you have access to this inner circle?" Black questioned, his eyes narrowed, and voice barely hiding his contempt.

Draco gave him an exasperated look and sighed, "You do remember who my father is, don't you?"

"You're exposing your own father as an active Death Eater with connections to the Dark Lord?"

Draco shrugged, but inside there was some small part of him that hurt at the betrayal he was committing against the man that had once loved him. Once… As a child… No more… "My father's loyalties are nothing you didn't already know."

"Just what is it you want, Draco?" Dumbledore prompted.

Draco leaned forward, steel lining his words, "I wish to join the Order."

"A Malfoy…. A member of the Order!" Sirius burst.

"I don't see how my name has any precedence, but yes a _Malfoy _as a member."

Sirius looked almost livid, but didn't say anything and Draco had a hunch that it was the pale hand on his arm that held him in check. It was Lupin's inquiring voice that broke the tense silence.

"Why?"

Draco sat there staring into space, his mind running feverishly for an answer that would suit. Some logical part of his brain had told him they would ask why he was doing this. It was only natural to want some reason, some proof that there was something real to his intentions. They had no reason to take his offer at face value, but somehow he had convinced himself that they would jump at the opportunity of a voluntary spy. Someone with his connections and abilities… What was he suppose to say? _I'm doing this for a pair of emerald eyes? For an enemy that I have come to love? _How would they ever understand what had changed… what he truly wanted?

He closed his eyes a moment, letting the pain wash through him, the hopelessness that had invaded his entire existence, but when he opened his eyes silver-gray shone like steel. Turning away from the other pair of men, he met Dumbledore's gaze, willing that he would see through his mask, overlook his past, and see what he was now.

Blues eyes smiled back at him over the rims of half-moon glasses, but it was a harsh voice that broke the silence and Draco's eyes cut across the room, centering in on Black once more.

"Rehearsal is the key to every great performance, Malfoy."

He allowed the corner of his lips to tilt into the arrogant smirk he had made his trademark, "Yes, but I'm not acting."

"Then answer the question."

"My reasons are personal and my own. I have no intention of making them public to you or anyone…" Leaning back into the chair, he let his hand rest against the soft red throw, "_Least _of all to you, Black."

Sirius glared back at the youth.

"Regardless of your reasons, Mr. Malfoy, of which you will not share," Lupin intervened, "why should we accept you into the Order?"

"My position within the inner circle, my knowledge of Voldemort's plans would be very beneficial to the Order's purpose. A spy within the very inner circle, only a handful can claim that _privilege._" Sarcasm and contempt laced that one word as Draco finished. "Certainly you can see the gain in my offer. If I had been a member a few weeks back the incident at Potter's home would not have been cut as close as it was." Draco could feel the tension rise in the room, wave on wave washing over him.

"Such a spy would be beneficial," Lupin began, passing over Malfoy's last statement, aware of rigid figure next to him. "However, your offer could merely be a ploy, setting you up in a position just as beneficial and just as much of a spy for the Dark Lord's purposes rather than ours."

"I have nothing concrete to offer as proof," Draco admitted.

"Exactly…" Sirius sneered.

"Though," Draco interrupted, "the fact that Potter remains alive could be attributed as proof I suppose. Since it was only thanks to my warning letter that you knew anything and actions were able to be taken. What purpose would I have in sabotaging Voldemort's plans, especially when they would have been executed rather flawlessly?" His voice was tired, droning almost as he turned back towards Dumbledore. "I assume you still have the letter Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled easily, "No, Mr. Malfoy. Actually, I gave it to Mr. Potter. I knew he would want to see it."

"You gave it to Potter!"

Dumbledore looked amused as Draco straightened quickly, his voice raising slightly. "Yes, I did."

Forcing himself to relax, Malfoy leaned back once more, but his voice was a desolate tone. "I see…"

There was silence for a few moments, time for realization to sink in… or try to.

"Sincere or not, you have no idea what you are committing yourself to, Draco," Lupin attempted at reason. "A life of betrayal, lies, and espionage is not something you should want for yourself."

"I am well aware of what I am offering myself up to though your concern is appreciated," Draco assured.

"The fact remains; however, that no matter how _willing _you are for this, you are still under-aged and inexperienced," Sirius protested.

Something sparked within the depths of Draco's eyes and his arrogant expression vanished, replaced with one of unreadable emotion. He sat completely still as he replied, "My age, like my name, has little to do with my abilities." He paused for a moment, something harsh flitting across his face, "Though perhaps may name does have something to do with how I was taught to use those abilities, but really, isn't that more focused on my parental upbringing rather than anything else? I'm sure that you will find my _experience_ to be adequate… one is not admitted into the Dark Lord's congregation without _credentials _and for those further up… the credentials can be staggering." _And unsettling._

He hadn't said anything descriptive, nothing to give them any indication of what had transpired, what he had been forced to do to prove his worth, but each one seemed to have a grasp on what he never mentioned. Lupin was looking at him with pity, Sirius with contempt and vague horror, while the Headmaster's eyes held a mixture of sadness and sympathy.

He really didn't need this now…

"I know what I'm doing." He wasn't sure if that statement had been directed at them or at himself.

"There are other ways, Malfoy," Lupin began again. "If you simply wish for a way out of Voldemort's circle, we can offer you protection…"

"Like the protection you gave Potter over the holidays? I think I'll pass. Besides, you don't have the legal abilities to remove me from my father's guardianship." Draco pointed out quietly, but his statement was met with stumbling silence. "I can't escape what is, but I can use it to my advantage… and I'm willing to let it be used to yours as well."

"But are you really prepared for what you would be forced to do?" Lupin came in again. "You would be forced to live a tremendous lie, perform as a Death Eater, betray your father and, if I'm not mistaken, many of your friends at one time or another? It is not a pleasant existence… and should you be discovered… the Killing Curse would be a blessing compared to what would await you."

"I want a choice."

"But there are other.."

"No!" Draco burst. "There are no _other _choices for me. That is the point!" Draco stood abruptly, pulling back the fabric of his robes and held his arm out to the room. The black skull glared hideously from his pale skin and Draco swore it was mocking him. "I didn't have a choice when they stained me and in doing so they have limited more of my choices than they know." He stared around with twisted pleasure at the shock on the two men's faces, even Dumbledore's smile had faded as he stared at Draco arm. "I have two choices… but a choice none the less and I choose to take it! With or without the Order if necessary."

"Why even come to us then?" Sirius sneered.

"I have already explained the benefits of our alliance." Draco murmured, tiredly. "Must I repeat myself?"

"There must be more…" Lupin suggested vaguely.

"More what?" Draco demanded, extremely proud of the reasonable tone of his words. All he wanted to do was shout at this point.

"More to your decision than simple rebellion and revenge."

"Since when did revenge not constitute a valid motivation?"

"Revenge is never a _valid _motivation." Lupin stated quietly, glancing at the dark-haired man next to him. "If that is the only foundation your alliance would be based upon… then it is inadequate. It's a shaky support at best, based on pure and unstable emotion that could change rapidly and then where would our alliance be? How could we be sure that your loyalties remain constant?"

"My position will not change." Draco replied, allowing his arm to be covered once more. "What was done to me, will never be forgotten or forgiven. My allegiance once pledged, will never be broken."

"Seems to me you are already breaking a pledge." Sirius' eyes glared at the clothed arm, remembering the stark image.

"I pledged nothing." Draco straightened.

"And yet you wear the Mark."

"I took it because I had no choice, no power to stop it, and because…" He trailed off, refusing to expose more.

"Because?" Sirius prompted.

"That is not important," Draco sighed, glancing back to the chair and the significance of the colorful decorations. _Was it even possible? _Taking a mental breath he turned back to his audience, "My word, _willingly _given, is worth more than my life, should it come to that. My allegiance would be binding. I offer it freely."

Lupin looked sad for a moment, as though he were about to make a comment, but thought better of it and Sirius took up the thread of discussion. "We have no proof of that though."

"Potter's life is not enough, then?" Draco countered.

"Harry's life is circumstantial and not liable as proof of your present sincerity or _future _actions." Sirius ground out. "You and your life must provide proof."

"There are magickal remedies to this problem," Draco offered. "Complete and binding oaths."

"You would make such an oath to the Order?" Sirius asked surprised.

"To the Order? No," Draco answered, hurrying on as Black opened his mouth to speak. "I'm not a fool… I would be bound to countless individuals and that would be insane. I will swear my allegiance to one person… only one."

"Your choice or ours?"

"Mine."

Sirius' eyes narrowed and his voice was harsh, "Of course."

"I will not be bound to just anyone!"

"No." Sirius threw back. "You will choose someone that will allow you to manipulate the oath to your advantage. I knew your father, Malfoy, and you are no different!"

He could feel and he couldn't stop it. He was fed up, tired, and stretched from training and emotions that should never have been. His skin hummed and the air tensed as irritation and anger swept through him. Draco relished the hard tide that rushed over him, reveling in feeling something other than pain for once. _He _was in control of this… he _knew _this…

"You will never, _ever _again compare me in any way to my father, Black!"

He saw the hesitation in the older man's eyes, unconcerned with anyone else in the room. It would only take one step… just one, and he would stand toe to toe with him. He knew what he would see reflected in Black's eyes: hard blue eyes, his own eyes, shimmering with the same light that would surround his form. It would only take one step to see the fear fill Black's eyes. Only one…

He remained standing fast, reigning in his control.

"Never again, Black," he smirked, noticing the bleached white knuckles of the man's fist. "You don't know me, don't know who I am or what I am capable of… so watch your mouth." Draco grinned and spread his arms out on either side, "This is what I am offering you! The weapon of the enemy…" Letting his arm fall back to his sides, a look of despair passed over his face briefly. "Me."

Silence burned the air with the heat of tension that filled it.

"Now will you turn me away!" he spat at Black, even as he felt something cool brush through his power. He felt it sooth and calm, wrapping around him, helping him to force the power back where it belonged.

"Draco…" Dumbledore's voice answered, soft and soothing like the power that was fading away form him.

Taking a deep breath, Draco let a strangled laugh escape as he looked back towards the Headmaster. "I should have expected it to be you…"

Dumbledore merely smiled placidly, indicating the seat once more.

He let himself fall into the deep cushion and closed his eyes, "I want something more than what I was born into. A life of choices and all of them mine… and if it increases the chance of that outcome, I am willing to join your cause." Glancing over toward Dumbledore, Draco sighed and continued, "I have something I want to protect and a purpose, not so different from any of your reasons."

"We accept your offer, Mr. Malfoy."

Everyone turned towards the Headmaster, various levels of surprise on each face.

"Albus.." Sirius began.

Dumbledore simply raised his hand, looking toward Draco. "You will have to make that oath and it will be a person you chose. I will have to approve of your choice, of course," Dumbledore added quickly as Sirius began to protest again.

"Of course, sir." Draco nodded, mechanically. Elation left him vacant and uncertain… It was over… He had his place in the Order, under his terms. A soft smile found its way to the edge of his lips.

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco shook his head, clearing his head as he focused in on the voice. The Headmaster sat behind his desk looking amused and Draco quickly took in the room. Black and Lupin were gone and Malfoy stared confused for a moment.

"I dismissed them and am about to dismiss you." There was laughter behind Dumbledore's words. "There will be talk at the next Order meeting, and I will need to know who you chose before then…"

"You already know, don't you?" Draco mused.

Light sparked above the half-moon glasses and Draco caught the faintest of nods from the old man.

"Then do I have your approval?"

"Why don't you ask him first?"

Draco couldn't held the groan that escaped him. "I would prefer if he knew nothing of this…"

Dumbledore seemed to contemplate him for a few minutes before answering. "As you wish. Your choice is approved."

"Thank you." Draco murmured as he turned towards the door.

"He will eventually have to know." Dumbledore's knowing voice followed him sympathetically.

"But not everything…"

Draco could feel the vague pain filling him once more with each step. Bathing him as he opened the door, only to pause when his name was called. Silence pressed in upon him and he was content with it, but it wouldn't last…

"Do you really think he would want this of you?"

"No…" He answered, finding strength in the realization of what he was doing. Why. "But I want to do this for him." Tilting his head he grinned back at the Headmaster, leaving Dumbledore with the familiar image of careless arrogance he had portrayed since First Year. "I'm not giving him a choice."

With that he left the room, closing the door behind him on his way to his bedroom.

Dumbledore stared at the ornate door for a few minutes, a smile creeping into his face.

Finally…

TBC…

REVIEW please!


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